The Night School Strangler
by kaleen1212
Summary: When a girl Mark Sanger is interested in is murdered, it brings Chief Robert Ironside and his staff into an investigation of a serial killer, who is strangling female students at the College Mark attends.
1. chapter 1

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 1

Mark Sanger left his last class of the evening. He had been going to night school for a while now. Looking back, he wondered why he was not sitting in a prison somewhere in California. Actually, he knew he did not have to question why he wasn't. One man alone had turned the course of his life around. Sanger had been in and out of trouble. Ironside had caught him and sent him up. No that was not actually true, and Mark knew it. Ironside had recommended him for counseling and community service. But it was definitely Robert Ironside that was responsible for the man Mark was becoming.

When Chief Ironside had insisted that he go to school, Mark had fought him on it. It was to no avail as his boss had once stated he had the right to not want ignorant people around him. Sanger had never had the desire to go to school. He barely made it through high school, where he spent most of his time in trouble and in the principal's office.

After high school, Mark had a hard time finding a job. He realized now it was mostly because of his attitude. He had so much hate for what he called the establishment. They all tried to keep him down, or so he thought.

When he came to San Francisco from the streets of Chicago, he never dreamed he would run into someone who would display any interest in him as a human being. Mark had not realized the hate that had built up inside of him. Then a life changing event happened. Sergeant Ed Brown had come to his cell at police headquarters and told him Chief Ironside wanted to see him. Sanger had no idea why and he did not care. He hated the detective. He was responsible for him going to jail. He wanted nothing to do with him, nothing. But as fate would have it, Mark would indeed go up to Ironside's office and see him. It had turned out that Ironside knew Mark better than he did himself.

The chief had dropped his pistol on the floor. He had not been in the wheelchair that long and had not yet mastered how to handle things he had dropped. After unsuccessfully trying to pick it up with a cane, Ironside challenged Mark over his hatred of him. Mark had told him he hated him enough to shoot him ten times over. The chief told him his chance was on the floor.

Mark did not believe that the detective would allow him to pick up a loaded gun, so in order to call what he thought was Ironside's bluff, he picked up the gun and shot it at the window. The bullet put a hole right through it. Shocked that it had been loaded, Mark was told by the chief he had twenty-four hours to pay for the window and the bullet. When he showed up the next day without the money, Mark had expected Ironside to arrest him, instead he offered Mark a job as his aide. Not wanting to take the job, but with nowhere else to go he accepted.

Sanger had not planned on sticking around very long, only long enough until he could find something else. That was before he found himself treated with respect by Robert Ironside and for the first time in his life, he felt a sense of belonging.

Today, Mark was studying to be a lawyer. He knew the boss wanted him to become a cop, but Mark's interest was in the law. He worked hard at his school work and was receiving excellent grades. Sanger had come to not only respect the detective, but now considered him his closest friend. No one before him had ever helped him. Because of Ironside, he had lost most of the hatred and anger. He had a goal and a reason for being.

Mark left the building and was headed for the van when he noticed a commotion between the buildings. Curiosity got the better of him and he headed in the direction of the gathered crowd. Making his way through the people that were standing around, he came to the front of the group. There laying on the ground was a girl of about twenty or so. She was laying in a pool of blood with a wire around her neck. Since coming to work for the chief, he had seen enough dead bodies to know the girl was indeed dead.

When he spotted Lieutenant Carl Reese, he motioned him over to him. Reese finished barking out orders and then headed Mark's way. "Hello, Mark. I would have thought you would have been on your way back to the chief's quarters by now."

"I was headed to the van when I saw the crowd. What happened?" he asked, although it was quite obvious.

"One of the students, she was murdered," Reese said.

"How did you end up with the investigation? I thought you mostly handled the drug scene."

"Just lucky I guess," Reese said. "Besides, these days I never know where I am going to be working. I am actually assigned to homicide, but get called into Narcotics and of course, your boss drags me into his investigations."

"Any idea who did it?" Mark asked.

"Not yet, but we have not been on the job that long. Do you happen to know who the girl is?"

"I have seen her around the campus, but no, I don't know her name. You might try the guy in the gray sweater over there. I have seen him with her quite often," Mark told him.

Reese glanced in the direction Sanger was looking and immediately spotted the man he had indicated. "Thanks, Mark. Say hello to the chief for me."

"Will do." Sanger turned and made his way back through the crowd. He wondered who had killed the girl and why. Shaking his head, he realized the chief was rubbing off on him. This was a job for homicide, it was nothing he had to concern himself with.

He reached the chief's van, unlocked the door on the driver's side and got in. After starting up the engine, he headed out into the street for Police Headquarters where he now resided with Chief Robert Ironside.

xxxx

He stood there among the crowd of students watching the police. The girl laid there with the wire around her neck. Her eyes were staring straight ahead. Blood pooled under her neck where the wire had ripped into the skin. She deserved to die. They all deserved to die. Women had no business going to school. They should not even appear in public. It should not be permitted. They were not any good for anything except having male babies. They would be punished. He would see to it. They deserved it. He hated them, they were so inferior to men. He just could not understand why everyone else couldn't see it.

He noticed a young black man leaving the scene. He had seen that guy somewhere before, he was sure of it. Where? He tried to jog his memory, but could not place him. He had been talking to the detective in charge. Was he a cop as well? He did not cross the police tape. If he were a cop, wouldn't he just have joined the others?

He had to find out who he was. He did not like surprises and the man reeked of surprise. Just who was he? He left the crowd and headed in the direction he had seen the man go. He arrived in time to watch him drive away in a van. He knew he had seen him in that van before, but when? Then it hit him! Ironside! The man worked for Chief Robert Ironside.

What was he doing at the scene of his work? Would he go back and tell Ironside? Maybe that wasn't as bad as he thought. Would Ironside decide to come into the investigation? He did not think so, unless his aid convinced him to.

None of it mattered. He had eliminated his first woman. She deserved it for trying to act like a man. Going to school... that was for men only. He would rid this school of the females that had the nerve to enroll. For now, his work was done here and he was tired. He would go home for rest. He would return tomorrow night. There were plenty of women breaking rules the minute they came out in public. The law said so. His law.

He turned away from where the van had sped down the street and headed in the opposite direction. Tomorrow another would pay.

xxxx

Mark pulled the van into the police garage. After shutting off the engine, he got out of the vehicle and headed for the elevator that would take him to the floor where Robert T Ironside resided, as that is where Mark also lived. When he reached the elevator, Mark pressed the button for the chief's office and rode the elevator up. Walking up the ramp, Mark entered the office. His boss was watching a baseball game on the television.

Ironside turned around to see who had just entered, although he was sure it would be Mark. He usually arrived back about this time. "Good evening, Mark. How did the classes go?"

"Alright. More lecturing on the due process of law."

"Boring, huh?" Ironside said.

"You could say that." Mark headed into the kitchen, reached into the cupboard and pulled down two glasses. He then pulled out a bottle of bourbon. He walked back to where Ironside was watching the ballgame and handed him a glass. After pouring him a drink, he did the same for himself and sat down. "Whose winning?"

"The Giants, eleven to ten," Ironside responded.

"That must be some wild game," Mark surmised.

"The pitchers on both teams can't seem to get anyone out." He reached over and turned the set off.

Surprised, Mark asked, "Aren't you going to watch the end of it?"

"End of it? It is only in the third inning," Ironside complained.

"With that score?"

"With that score. I told you the pitchers can't get anyone out."

"By the end of the game the score is going to resemble a football game," Mark said.

"Okay, what is it?" Ironside set his glass on the table beside them.

"What is what?" Mark answered with a question of his own. He did not know why he did it because something was bothering him, and his boss could always tell.

Ironside gave him one of those don't insult my intelligence look, but said nothing.

"A woman was murdered on campus tonight," Mark finally told him.

"Murder? Who was she?"

"I don't know. Carl did not have her identified yet."

"Carl is handling the investigation then?" Ironside asked, but it was more of a statement then a question. "They could not have a better man on the case. How was she killed?"

"Looks like she was strangled, Chief, with a wire."

"Did anyone hear or see anything?"

"I don't know, I did not hang around to find out anymore than I just told you."

Ironside opened the drawer on the coffee table beside them. He pulled out a chess set, placed it in his lap and wheeled toward the table. "Come on, Mark, it is time for another lesson in humility."

"You think so? How do you know I won't beat you this time?"

Ironside turned his chair towards his aid and gave him one of those looks. "When was the last time you beat me?"

"I haven't, but I will... someday."

"That'll be the day," Ironside barked as he set up the chess board.

"I thought you were going out to dinner with Katherine tonight?"

Ironside was a very private man and his relationship with Katherine fell into that privacy. He did not answer Mark. After the board was set up, the chief nodded at Mark to begin. Sanger immediately moved out a pawn and waited for his boss to make the same move. They always started that way. It would be the last time in the game that they would be even.

Ironside studied the board and made his move. Mark immediately moved another of his pieces. The chief shook his head. "Do you ever think about a move before you make it?"

"I made the move I wanted to make," Mark countered.

Again, Ironside took his time and moved one of his chess pieces. "Your move."

And again, Mark moved a piece immediately. His boss let out a sigh of exasperation. "Mark, you did not think that through. You should be anticipating what move I am going to make next."

"You expect me to know what you are going to do? How long have I lived here? I still don't know what you are going to do three quarters of the time."

Ironside moved his queen and said, "Check and mate."

Mark looked at the board, he could not move his king out of danger. He was beaten, as usual. He did not know why he bothered to play the game with his boss. He always beat him in three or four moves. "How about a nice game of checkers?"

Ironside just shook his head. "I am going to bed. Goodnight, Mark."

"Do you need help?" Sanger shouted after him.

"No, I can handle it myself," Ironside called over his shoulder.

Mark watched as he disappeared into his bedroom. He collected the pieces to the chess game and put them back in the box. After putting it in the drawer of the end table, Mark went into his bedroom.

He got out of his clothes, picked up one of his school books and began to study. He could not keep his mind on his school work. The vision of the dead girl was haunting him. He did not understand why it was bothering him so. He had seen other dead women, and men for that matter. Why was this one on his mind? He could not get the picture of that girl laying there with a wire around her neck out of his mind. Maybe it was because it happened at the college. He had made a lot of female friends, one in particular. He had met Kimberly Gilmore in his current law class. She was beautiful, intelligent and fun to be with. After several classes with her in the seat next to his, Mark had decided to ask her out, and she had accepted.

Kimberly had not been able to attend class tonight. Some family function had kept her away. Mark was to share his notes and go over the class with her tomorrow night. He was looking forward to seeing her. He hoped that they would have many more study nights together. Maybe he could not keep the image of the murdered girl out of his mind because if things had been different, it could have been Kimberly, and not Jane Doe who was laying their with a wire around her neck.

After an hour of being unable to recall a single thing he had read, Mark decided it was a waste of time and sleep to continue. He might as well shut off the light and try to get some shut-eye. He never knew when the boss would wake him up in the middle of the night to work out some aspect of a case by running it by him.

xxxx

The yellow ball of fire in the sky was roaring into Chief Ironside's room. He awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his bedroom window. For years his bed had been in the main part of the office space. It was Eve's idea that they move it into one of the many rooms that were attached to his office. Commissioner Randall had gone to the city counsel, and they were forthcoming with the funds to remodel the room into a bedroom.

It was actually a much better arrangement and it gave Ironside some privacy, especially those days when he was sick in bed. He did not have to be on display for those who came into the office for one reason or another.

Ironside had become rather independent despite his disability. He reached for his wheelchair which was within reach. Sometimes Mark took it upon himself to decide that the chief needed more sleep. He would push his chair out of his reach, which only resulted in Ironside yelling for Mark to come get him out of bed.

After putting on his robe with some difficulty, Ironside used the bars above him to lower his body into the chair. Wheeling into the main room, he did not see Mark anywhere. The door to his room was still closed. He decided not to disturb him, and went directly into the bathroom to take a shower and shave. Twenty minutes later he was leaving the bathroom. Still, Mark had not gotten up. He wondered if the young man was not feeling well.

Heading back to his bedroom, Ironside chose a suit, shirt, tie and socks, then pulled under clothing out of the dresser drawer. It was never easy for him to dress on his own but over the years he had learn the easiest way to maneuver his body to pull the clothing over his lower torso.

When he left his room fully clothed, Mark was at the stove fixing breakfast. Ironside wheeled over to the table without taking his eyes off of his friend. "Are you alright this morning, Mark?"

Sanger turned around to face the chief. "I am fine, Chief. Sorry, I forgot to set an alarm."

Ironside studied the young man for signs he wasn't being forthcoming with him, but Mark had somewhat learned his technique for keeping a poker face. He was a bit harder to read than he had been when he came to work for the detective. He decided to let it go and not pry, Mark would come to him if something was bothering him.

Sergeant Ed Brown and Officer Eve Whitfield came down the ramp and joined them at the table. Mark brought over coffee for them and the chief. He returned to the kitchenette and carried pancakes and sausages to the boss. After setting it down in front of Ironside, he began drinking his coffee.

Ironside eyed his aid with puzzlement. "Aren't you having breakfast this morning?"

Mark looked up from his coffee. "I am not hungry."

"Any particular reason?" Ironside asked.

"Nope, I am just not hungry."

The chief dropped the subject as the opening he gave Mark did not seem to entice him to speak up. "Well, where are we on finding the man who robbed the Wells Fargo Bank?"

"Believe it or not, Chief," Eve said, "everyone gave the exact same description. There were fifteen people that saw him."

"That's a switch, we usually get fifteen different descriptions," Ironside said as he ate another mouthful of pancakes. "What about his accomplice?"

"Same thing. All of them gave the same description," Eve reported.

"How much was the take?" the chief asked.

"About a hundred and fifty thousand dollars," Ed replied.

"About?" Ironside questioned, sarcastically.

"One-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars," Ed said, stating it as a fact instead of a guess as he knew it must have sounded to the chief.

"Anyone see the getaway car?" Ironside inquired. He noticed Mark was not paying much attention to the conversation, which was unusual for him. He turned his attention back to Brown.

"We got a partial description. It was a Chevrolet pick-up truck, dark gray in color. It had a sticker on the back of the window, but no one could tell us what it said."

"Okay, keep working on it. I have to go to the commissioner's office for a meeting. Check back with me later in the day."

Eve and Ed got up to leave the office. Ironside stopped them as they reached the top. "Not you, Eve. I need you to drive me."

Mark perked up when he heard that. "I can drive you and it is my job."

"You are going to study. Don't you have mid-term exams coming up?" Ironside questioned.

"Yea, but I can still drive you."

"No, you study. Eve can drive me." He said it with such finality that Mark decided it was pointless to argue with him.

Ed headed out of the office followed by Eve and the chief. When they reached Ironside's van, he said, "You drive." The chief pushed the button to the lift. The door opened and the tray dropped to the ground. He backed his chair onto it and again pushed the button, lifting him into the air. Ironside wheeled off the tray and into the van.

Eve was already in the driver's seat. "Okay, Chief, do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

Ironside gave her one of those innocent looks he was so easily able to produce. "I don't know what you mean."

"It was obvious to me you did not want Mark to know where you were going. Are we going to the commissioner's office or not?"

"We are but first I want to make a visit to Carl Reese. He should be over at the college."

Eve shook her head. "No he isn't. He is in his office and planned on being there all morning."

Ironside looked at his officer with a frown. "Are you sure of that?"

"Ed and I ran into him on the way up to the office. He told us as much."

Robert Ironside wheeled back into the lift. When he saw that Eve was not making any effort to move, he grumbled, "Well, are you just going to sit there, Officer Whitfield?"

Eve immediately got out of the vehicle. By the time she reached the other side, Ironside was already out of the van and pushing the button to return the lift's tray into the vehicle. She stepped behind his wheelchair and began pushing the detective back to the elevator. Once inside, Eve pushed the button for the floor Carl work on.

Ironside wheeled down the hall towards Carl's office. Eve removed her hands from his chair as he seemed determined to wheel himself. When they arrived at the large room where many detectives worked, they headed for the back where Carl had an office to himself. Carl was on the phone. The chief knocked on the door, and Reese waved him in. A couple minutes later the lieutenant ended his conversation and turned to Ironside.

"What can I do for you, Chief. I assume this is not a social call," Reese said.

"It is not, but it is unofficial," the chief told him. That caught Eve's attention. She looked over at her boss wondering what he was up to. She would have to wait and see.

"You are assigned to the campus murder of the female student?"

"Yes, Chief." Reese lowered his brow in suspicion. "Are you taking it over?"

Ironside waved his hand. "Of course not. You are perfectly capable of handling it. Any suspects?"

"Not yet. She was discovered by another student. She had been strangled by a wire."

"Any other marks on the body indicating a struggle?"

"None, except for the bruising on her fingers. She probably was trying to loosen the wire around her neck," Reese surmised.

"That's logical. Have we identified her yet?" Ironside asked.

Eve noted very quickly that the chief had purposely, or at least she thought it was purposely, used the word we. She wondered how long it would be before the chief dragged them into it. She also wondered why he was interested in the first place. Then it hit her! "Chief, are you thinking this could be the first of more murders to come? Do you think we are dealing with a serial killer?"

"Come on, Eve. We have had one murder," Carl said. "One murder is not an indication of a serial killer."

"No, it isn't," Ironside agreed. "However, it is not something we can rule out. Back to my question, who is she and was she a student at the college?"

"Yes, she was a student at the college. Her name was Melinda Mitchell. She had been waiting on tables at a local restaurant, putting herself through night school."

"Do you have anything else?" Ironside asked.

"Chief, give me a break, I was just assigned the case last night," a frustrated detective grumbled.

"Alright, Carl, keep me informed."

"Then you are coming in on the investigation?"

"No, just keep me informed."

Carl nodded. "Okay, I will."

Ironside turned his chair around and wheeled out of Carl's office. Eve hurried to catch up with him.


	2. Chapter 2

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 2

When Ironside and Eve got back to the office, they found it empty. Mark was no where in sight. The chief was a bit concerned about his aide. He did not know what was bothering him, and from past experience he knew Mark could decide to take matters into his own hands. What could be bothering him? Did the murder of the student at his college have that big an effect on him? He could not imagine that it would. Mark had been with him long enough that he had seen murder more times than any of them like to think about. So, why would this murder be any different? He had not known the girl, or at least that was what he believed. Ironside decided he would have a talk with Mark when he came back.

"Chief, why didn't you just take over the case?" Eve asked.

That brought him out of his private thoughts. "Carl is perfectly capable of handling a murder case. He has done it dozens of times. He's one of the best detectives in the department," Ironside said.

"I am aware of that, but I got the impression that you wanted in on this case."

"Eve, I just can't move in on someone else's case. Carl was already worried about it; you heard what he said."

"I know, but if you really think this is the work of a serial killer, you know it will end up in your lap sooner or later. The city council will start to panic, and then the commissioner will be in this office demanding you take over the investigation."

"Well until then, we have plenty of cases already assigned to this office," he said.

"Yes, sir. I will get back on the bank robberies."

"Good idea," Ironside growled gruffly.

The office door opened and Ed Brown walked in. He came down the ramp and sat down beside Ironside and Eve, who had not had the chance to return to her work before Ed had arrived.

"Well, Sergeant, I trust you have come up with something," Ironside barked.

"Yes, sir. I was just about to go check it out, but I thought I better get Eve checking all known bank robbers in the area. We are going to need finger prints for them," Ed informed him.

"Then you have something solid?" the chief questioned.

"I found out the bank has a security system and ... "

"Ed, all banks have security systems," Ironside said, the impatience evident in his tone of voice.

"Yes, sir, I know that. This one has a security camera that also covers the entire perimeter of the bank. When the subjects left the bank, one of them stepped off from the curb and was almost hit by a car. He stepped back and grabbed the pole of the street light to steady himself."

"He wasn't wearing gloves then?" Ironside inquired.

Ed smiled. The chief always anticipated what you were going to tell him. "Yes, sir, that is right. I called in a fingerprint team and had that pole dusted for prints in the area he had touched it."

"Good work, Ed. Now all we will have to do is match those prints to one of the known bank robbers in the area, that is if the prints are on file. There is always the possibility that someone has just started a life of crime."

"Eve, as soon as we get those prints, we will need to search the data base for prints that match," Ed said.

"When will we have them?" Eve asked her superior officer.

"This afternoon," Ed responded.

"Did you bring a copy of the video of the men that robbed the bank," Ironside asked.

Brown reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. "It's on here."

"So, let's put it in the computer and take a look at it. These crooks become recognizable sometimes as they always do everything the same way during these robberies. Maybe there will be a clue on that video as to who they are," Ironside suggested.

Ed, Eve and Ironside headed over to the computer sitting on the chief's desk. Brown put the flash drive into the USB slot to access what was on it. The three of them began watching the video.

xxxx

Mark walked down the hall of the law building. He was looking for someone in particular. He had to get some answers or he was never going to get any sleep. Someone had killed Melinda Mitchell in a horrible way. What concerned Mark was whether this was a murder that resulted because someone had a reason or a grudge against Melinda, or was it the start of something; Mark didn't even want to think about it. He just had to find out why she was murdered. He did not want it happening to any other women on campus.

"Hello, Mark, what are you doing here during the day," Kimberly Gilmore said from behind him.

Sanger turned around and smiled. "Hello, yourself. I came to check something out."

Kimberly stuck out her bottom lip. "And here I thought you came to see me."

Mark reached for her and put an arm around her shoulders. "How do you know it isn't you I came to check out?"

She threw her hair back and laughed. "That would be nice, but you have that detective look about you."

"Detective look?"

"Yes, you know, the one your boss has on his face when investigating. You have that same look about you." She used her index finger to push her long hair behind her ear. "So, tell me, what gives? Who are you going to interrogate, Mister Sanger?" She smiled at him playfully.

Mark could not resist her. He bent down and kissed her lightly. "I can't remember, and it is all your fault for distracting me."

Kimberly touched her index finger to his chin. "I am certainly glad I am able to distract you but I must get back to class. I only came out to go get a drink of water." She walked over to the water fountain on the other side of the hall, bent down and pressed the button on the fountain. After getting her fill, she turned back to look at Mark, who had followed her. "So, will I see you tonight?"

"We have class tonight. Did you forget we were going to study in the library afterwards?" Mark asked.

"How could I forget that. I meant before class. Do you want to get together for dinner first?"

Mark wished that could be possible, but he had to see to it that the chief got a decent meal for dinner. Oh, he knew Chief Ironside was capable of fixing his own dinner, but it was Mark's job to take care of him. He would be away from him most of the evening. He and Kimberly could always go for some ice cream or pizza after they left the library.

"How about pizza after studying or maybe we can study at the pizza parlor while eating," he suggested.

"That sounds like fun. Let's study at the pizza parlor." She reached up, gave Mark a quick kiss, turned and left him. She looked over her shoulder as she was leaving, shooting him a smile.

Mark watched her leave. He raised a hand and waved goodbye. When Kimberly disappeared into her classroom, Sanger just stood there for a moment. It had been a while since he had been this interested in a woman.

Finally, he was reminded of the reason he had come here in the first place. Mark walked towards the end of the hall and turned to his left. There was a student lounge in the middle of that hall and he had remembered seeing Melinda and James Lander in that room on many occasions. Mark continued down the hall until he reached the lounge. Opening the door, he notice there were only six people in the room. Over in the corner, he spotted James Lander.

Sanger stepped into the lounge and headed for the coffee machine. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some coin. After placing it into the machine, he selected black coffee. The machine dropped a cup and filled it with the brew. The smell of the coffee filled his nostrils. He picked it up and walked to the corner, where Lander was sipping a soft drink and studying a text book.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Mark asked him.

Lander looked up. "I guess not. You're Sanger, right?"

"That's right," he answered, offering his hand. "Mark Sanger."

Lander shook his hand. "You work for the crippled cop, Ironside."

"I work for Chief Ironside, but he is not crippled, he's handicapped," Mark corrected.

Lander laughed. "What's the difference?"

"If you knew Chief Ironside, you would not have to ask that question. He gets around extremely well despite his handicap."

"I see. So you are here to give me the third degree about Melinda. If that is the case, don't. I really cared for her. To have seen her that way... well it was just horrible. The guy who did that to her better hope I never find out and get my hands on him," Lander said.

"Look, Mister Lander..."

"Jim, just call me Jim."

"Alright, Jim. I am not here to give you the third degree. Chief Ironside is not the detective that is handling the case. If he was, he would be the one here asking the questions."

"What's your interest in this then?" Jim asked.

"To be honest, I really don't know. I happened on the scene last night when class got out and I have not been able to get it out of my head since."

"If you think you have not been able to get it out of your head, how do you think I feel?" Tears appeared in his eyes. He pulled a small box out of his pocket. He opened it and turned it to Mark. "You see this? I bought it last week. We were going to go to dinner tonight and I was going to ask her to marry me." He stared at the diamond ring in the box. "Now, all I have is this. What is worse is she never even got to see it."

Mark didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he had thought about this guy. Maybe he had considered him a suspect in her murder, but he sure didn't act like a guilty man. His grief seem genuine. Yet, Mark also had seen others that seemed genuinely grief stricken and they turned out to be the murderers. Then again, why would the man spend money to buy a woman a diamond ring if he intended to murder her. He knew what the chief would say to that. It could be to divert suspicion from himself. Mark just didn't think so.

"Look, Jim, I am not here to interrogate, but we might be able to help each other."

Lander looked Mark in the eye. The guy seemed to care and he needed someone else to care about his pain. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. After all, Sanger worked for Robert Ironside. He might be able to get Ironside interested in helping to solve who killed Melinda. "Mark, is there any chance Chief Ironside would consider looking into this?"

Mark shook his head. "The detective assigned to it is Lieutenant Carl Reese. He's good, Jim, really good."

Lander frowned. "I don't care how good he is, Ironside is better. He's the best."

"I can't argue with that," Mark said, but he is not on the case. I would like to help, though. Maybe between the two of us, we can help Carl solve it."

"Do you really think so?" Lander said, a bit of optimism creeping into his voice for the first time since Mark sat down.

"Look, I have been around Chief Ironside and other police detectives for some time now. I have learn a bit from them. What do you say we give it a try?" Mark knew he was on dangerous ground with his boss. He would not approve of him out playing detective. If he did indeed find out who killed Melinda Mitchell, the man would not hesitate to kill again if his freedom was in jeopardy. Mark knew he had to try anyway. It would not be easy trying to keep his activities under the chief's radar. There wasn't much, if anything the chief didn't notice. He was already suspicious that something was bothering Mark and he knew it. He had questioned him at breakfast about being alright and then again when he had chosen not to eat. No doubt the chief already suspected something was wrong. He would not pry much for a while, but later on there would be no keeping it from him. He would just have to make sure he found out as much as he could before Ironside intervened. Then again, his amateur detecting might just bring his boss into this case.

"I am game if you are, but I don't have any idea where to start," Jim said.

"Like the chief says, we start at the beginning. When was the last time you saw her alive?" Mark asked.

"I told all this to Lieutenant Reese."

"And you are going to tell it to me. Then we will formulate a plan," Mark told him.

"Okay, let's see, just before we were to go to class. I was in your class as you know and she had a law enforcement class down the hall from us."

"Do you know if she made it to that class?" Mark asked.

"I asked around and apparently she didn't. A friend of ours is in that class and she said she never showed up."

"Does she have any enemies?" Mark asked.

You mean someone that would hate her enough to kill her?"

"Yea."

Jim shook his head. "Not that I know of."

"How long have the two of you been seeing each other?"

Lander seem to be uncomfortable with that question. "Well, not very long actually, but that didn't matter to me. I knew she was the one for me."

"How long" Mark repeated.

"A couple months now," he answered.

"Please don't take this personally, but it is important that I know. Did either of you do drugs, sell them, use them casually?"

The question did not seem to bother Jim at all. "No way. I have never touched them and neither did Melinda. We both are... were studying to be lawyers. We could not afford to get mixed up with that stuff."

"What about a jealous boyfriend or girlfriend?" Mark asked next.

"I am from the east. I had girlfriends there but nothing serious. Melinda had just broken up with her boyfriend when we started seeing each other."

"Do you know his name?" Mark asked.

"Yea, Wyatt Smith. With a name like Smith, it is easy to remember."

"What kind of temperament does he have?"

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "I never met him. I only know his name because Melinda has mentioned it. Never saw the guy and before you ask, I don't know if he is a student here or not."

"Okay, it is at least somewhere to start. We can start asking around to see if anyone knows the guy." Mark got up. "I have to be getting back to the chief." Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, wrote his cellphone number down and handed it to Jim Lander. "You can reach me at this number. Don't call Chief Ironside's office number."

Lander stood up. "I will text my phone number to you," he said.

Mark shook his hand and left the student lounge. He exited the building from the closest door wondering how he was ever going to keep this from Chief Ironside.

xxxx

Katherine Denuerve parked her vehicle next to Robert Ironside's van and got out of the car. She headed right straight to the elevator that would take her to the top floor of the Police Headquarters where Ironside's office was located. Stepping into the elevator, Katherine pushed the button to Robert's floor and rode it upward. The doors opened and she got out. Turning to the left she headed up the ramp and opened the door. It seemed mostly everyone just entered the office without knocking during office hours. At night was different. The office became Robert's private living quarters. She always knocked at night.

Opening the office door, Katherine entered Ironside's office. She came down the ramp and notice Ed, Eve and Robert were all hovering over a computer. "Robert, am I interrupting something important?"

Ironside turned his chair around to see her standing there looking at him. He smiled. "No, I have been waiting for you." In reality, he had forgotten they had a luncheon date, but he would not tell her that.

"Are you still able to go to lunch or would you rather do it some other time?" Katherine asked him.

He smiled at her. "Now is just fine." Ironside turned to his officers. "Ed, see if they have those fingerprints ready. You and Eve start checking the date base for a match."

"Yes, sir." Ed got up and headed for the ramp. As he past Katherine, he smile and greeted her. "Hello, Katherine, you are looking well."

"Thank you, Ed. I feel well."

Brown left the office as Eve continued to study the video from Wells Fargo Bank.

"We will take the van, if that is alright with you, Katherine. It is easier for me to get in and out. Besides, it is my treat, I should drive."

She smiled warmly at him. "That is fine, Robert, but it really should be my treat, you are always paying for dinner and lunch."

"Not a chance. I am buying lunch," Ironside said as he took her hand. "Shall we go?" They headed for the door. Just before they exited the office, he called over his shoulder. "Keep on that video, Eve, until Ed gets back. I will be back this afternoon."

Katherine and Robert left the office.

xxxx

Later in the early evening the Night School Strangler roamed the campus. All these woman! They had no business being here. They should be in some man's home raising his children. It was time to rid the college of one more of these females who were breaking the rules. He reached into his backpack and felt the wire that he had tucked inside before he left the house. It was there ready to go to work, to snuff the life out of another rule breaker. Women who broke the rules did not have the right to live. He would be their judge and jury. That didn't take much as their very presence here was proof of their guilt.

He went behind the building. He remembered one girl always went back there to study by herself. She should be at home. Women should not be in public by themselves. As he stood by the door, he looked out to see if she was out there. Like clock work, there she was.

The Night School Strangler opened the door and went outside. The woman was sitting there with an open book, but she did not seem to be reading it. He walked over to her and looked down.

The woman was sitting on a bench. When she saw him, she looked up and smiled. "Haven't I seen you around here before?"

He smiled back at her. "Probably, since I decided to go into law, I have practically been living here, but I don't need to tell you that. I know you are a law student too."

"Would you like to sit down for a minute?" she asked, smiling at the newcomer.

"Yes, I think I would. It is nice just to get out of that stuffy building, don't you think?" He sat down beside her and placed his back pack behind the bench. "What are you reading?"

"Oh, just another book on courtroom procedure. When I finally get to court, I want to make sure I know it inside out."

"In that case, I think I might have a book you will be interested in reading," he told her. "Just a minute, I will get it for you." He stood up and walked around the bench where his backpack was waiting with the wire enclosed inside.

When he noticed she had turned to see what he was doing, he said to her," Do you ever take the time to appreciate the scenery back here? They really have done a wonderful job of landscaping."

Her attention turned to the flower beds and the bushes that lined the back of the building. "You know, you are right. I have never notice it before."

The Night School Strangler reached into his bag and pulled out the wire and a pair of gloves. After putting on the gloves, he put the wire around her neck and pulled with all his strength.

She tried to call out, but the wire was cutting into her neck and her air was completely cut off. As she flailed, she tried swinging her fist at her attacker, but her punches did not seem to have any effect. Reaching up to her neck, she tried to loosen the wire. Her vision was becoming blurred and her face was turning blue. Without any air flow, she succumbed and died.

The Night School Strangler left the wire around her neck, took off his gloves and left her on the ground. One less law breaker at the school, he left the area, being sure no one saw him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lieutenant Carl Reese sat at his desk studying the murder of Melinda Mitchell. So far there was not much to go on. There were no fingerprints to be found, and tracing the woman's steps during the day and night had not led to anything that would help him. If there was one thing he hated, it was a murder that left so few clues that the murderer just might get away with it. This seemed like one of those times.

A police officer always looks at the people close to the victim, but in this case her boyfriend, James Lander, had an alibi. He was in class when the murder was committed, at least it looked that way. She had not been dead that long when she had been discovered. Lander had said that he saw her just before going to class. Reese felt it was entirely possible that he could have killed her before he went to his class. The problem was proving it. He was still waiting for the coroner to set the time of death. He would know more when he received that information. Still Carl did not believe she had been dead that long.

There was a knock on the door, Carl looked up to see who it was. Mark Sanger was standing at the window looking in. Reese waved him in. Mark entered and took a seat in front of the detective's desk. "What can I do for you, Mark?"

"I was just wondering if you have anything new on the Melinda Mitchell murder," Mark told him.

Carl looked up at the young man. He had come to respect Mark. He had certainly turned his life around, living proof it could be done. Then again, you would not have much choice but to do so if Robert Ironside took an interest in you. He would certainly keep you on the straight and narrow. "Nothing much. We don't have a lot to go on at this point. No fingerprints, no one saw anything and the only suspect we have at the present time is the boyfriend, James Lander. It appears he was in at class at the time of the murder. His alibi will either be confirmed or broken as soon as we get the report from the coroner's office.

"Thanks, Carl. I appreciate the information," Mark said.

When Sanger turned to go, Carl called out to him, "What's your interest in this, Mark?"

Mark turned back. "Only that it was done at the college. I hate to see women being strangled where I am studying. That's all."

"By the way, it is not women, it is only one woman. Let's not make it more than it is." Carl frowned. "You are not here for the chief, are you?"

Mark shook his head. "Of course not. You should know the chief doesn't send in spies, he simply takes over."

Carl grinned, realizing that Mark was right. "Well, say hello to the chief for me."

"Will do," Mark replied and turned to go when Carl's phone rang.

"Lieutenant Reese." Carl listen for a moment and then said, "When?" After another moment of silence, he said, "I am on my way."

Mark, who had not left was standing by the door. "What's up?"

"I correct myself, it is not just one woman, it's two women."

As Carl was grabbing his suit coat jacket from the back of his chair, Mark asked, "Do you mind if I go along with you?"

"I thought you wanted to be a lawyer, not a cop," Reese said.

"I do, but hey, this is one I am interested in. Is it okay with you?"

Carl put on his suit coat and said, "It is okay with me if it is okay with the chief."

Sanger followed him out of his office.

xxxx

Ed Brown was busy combing through the data base trying to match the fingerprints that were found on the light pole in front of the bank, to known bank robbers. He had been at it several hours. He was checking the state of California as Eve Whitfield was checking country-wide. Neither of them had had any luck.

Ironside sat at the main table in the office going over reports on the latest robbery. Earlier, he had watched the video of the suspects over and over. Something in that video was familiar to him and he could just not put his finger on it. The way the one suspect walked jogged something in his memory. Maybe some detail in the report would bring it all to the surface.

The door to his office opened and Commissioner Randall entered with another gentlemen that Ironside did not recognize. "Well Dennis, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Ironside could see from the look on Dennis's face that this meeting was going to be anything but pleasure.

"Bob, I want you to meet Dwayne Kesner. He is an FBI agent out of the Sacramento office."

He should have known it would not be long before they would get a visit from the FBI. They would consider their investigation meddling in what was FBI jurisdiction. Ironside really did not care what they thought. This was his city and Dennis had asked him to look into it. He never backed off from any federal institution and he did not intend to start now. He looked at the agent, offered his hand and said, "Good afternoon, Mister Kesner, what can I do for you?"

"Well, you can stop meddling in what is FBI jurisdiction, for one thing," he snarled.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Agent Kesner. I never meddle, I investigate," Ironside said, snarling right back at him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the look Dennis was giving him. It was that keep your temper in check and be diplomatic look.

"You know damn well what I am talking about, Ironside... "

"Chief Ironside," Commissioner Randall corrected. "Let's not get off on the wrong foot."

"I don't get off on any foot, in case you have not noticed. Now just what am I supposed to be meddling in?" Ironside growled.

"Look, I know you are considered a super-hero in this city, but you know damn well that bank robberies fall under the Federal Bureau of Investigations. In case you have not noticed, that is us."

"In all fairness, Agent Kesner, I asked Chief Ironside to look into this. We have had a series of bank robberies and the FBI has not been able to solve them. Chief Ironside is known for his investigative abilities," Randall interrupted.

"I am not interested in his investigative abilities," Kesner growled. I am interested in jurisdiction, and it is not with the San Francisco police department."

"I have bank executives calling my office on a daily basis and complaining that nothing is being done," Randall reported.

"I don't care who is complaining, I want the police department out of this. Right now there is nothing to go on. The suspects can't be identified with the video. No one got the license number of the vehicle they left in. We will keep on it but the suspects remain unknown at this time."

Sergeant Ed Brown smiled as he had a match. He knew who the fingerprints belonged to. "Chief, we know who one of the bank robbers is," he announced.

"That is impossible with what there is available to us," Agent Kesner said.

"Nothing is impossible," Ironside responded. "Who is it Ed?"

"Jed Clemens. His fingerprints are the ones that were on that light pole."

"What light pole? What are you talking about?" Kesner demanded.

"Follow me," Ironside said. He wheeled over to the desk to the computer where Eve Whitfield had been working. "Eve, pull up the bank's video."

Officer Whitfield typed something into the keyboard and the video from the bank appeared on the screen. They watched it right through to when the two bank robbers came out the front door. Jed Clemens stepped into the street and just missed being hit by a car, as he jumped back and grabbed the light pole.

"I don't see anything we haven't seen before," Agent Kesner said.

Ironside shook his head. No wonder they had gotten nowhere with the robberies. "Didn't you see him grab the light pole?" Ironside asked in a voice that was dripping with sarcasm."

"Yes, but so what. What good does that do. He was wearing gloves."

"Eve," Ironside said, but did not insult her intelligence by telling her what to do. Eve was an excellent officer and she had been with him long enough to anticipate him.

She backed up the video and froze it. She then enlarged it on his hand when he grabbed the pole. It clearly showed that the man had not worn gloves.

Ironside looked at the FBI agent. "Do you see any gloves on that screen?"

"Alright, so he didn't wear gloves, but a hundred people could have touched that pole before or since," Kesner insisted.

"No one person touched that pole from the time he did to the time we check this video. The bank has twenty-four hour video coverage of the front of the bank. And, if you look at that again, he jumped into the air as he was trying to get out of the way of the speeding car. No one else would have put fingerprints that high on that pole. Besides, we only found one set of prints, right, Ed?"

"Right, Chief," Ed responded.

"What did you say the man's name was?" Kesner had suddenly become interested in the chief's findings.

"His name is Jed Clemens," Ironside replied. "He is a known robbery suspect, convenience stores, gas station and we believe three bank robberies over the past seven years."

Kesner snorted. "If he is a known robbery suspect, then why have you not put him behind bars?"

"It is called evidence," Ironside snarled sarcastically. "Didn't they teach you that in FBI school. You have to have solid evidence to arrest someone. He has been very clever."

"Well obviously not this time. Where can I find him?"

"Don't worry about it, we will pick him up," Ironside said in dismissal.

"Like hell you will. This is my jurisdiction, Ironside."

"Chief Ironside," Eve and Ed corrected at the same time.

"Fine, pick him up," Ironside said.

"Where is he?"

"I am sure you will find that out," the chief responded.

"Commissioner, I suggest you tell your detective what kind of trouble he can get into interfering with FBI jurisdiction."

The commissioner reached under his glasses with his thumb and index finger to rub the bridge of his nose. He was starting to develop a headache. That quite often happen when Bob Ironside was involved. "Agent Kesner, I could order him to tell you, but he would just insist that he didn't know where he was."

"What a way to run a police department. You don't seem to have much control over your own officers."

Randall expected he would have to run interference with Bob to keep him from riling the FBI agent, but now the man had gone too far. "You have gotten nowhere with your investigation. I asked Chief Ironside to look into it and in twenty-four hours he has identified one of the suspects. I don't have to control Robert Ironside. I simply have to tell him to solve a problem. He has done that. He will pick up Jed Clemens, and we will notify you when we have him in custody."

"I am telling you right now for the last time, this is not your jurisdiction and you are not going to interfere. If you do, I am going to see that you are charged with interfering with an investigation."

Ironside reached for the phone and dialed downstairs. "Get me President Whitmore at the White House." The chief was more than capable of calling the White House himself, but he wanted the impact on the FBI agent when he heard who he was calling. He pressed the speaker button so that Agent Kesner could hear the conversation.

"Chief Ironside, the president will speak with you now, sir."

"Bob, good to hear from you! How are things in San Francisco?" the president asked.

"Just fine, Jim. How about Washington?" Ironside responded.

"Same as usual, Bob, nothing ever changes here. Is this just a social call or do you need some help with something?" Whitmore asked.

"Both," Ironside said. "but it seems I only get to talk to you when it is business."

"Well you could call more often, you know," Whitmore needled his friend.

"Why is it presidents think they are the only ones that are busy?"

Whitmore chuckled. "It is the nature of the office, Bob. Now what can I do for you?"

"We have had a series of bank robberies here in San Francisco."

"Yes, I have read about them."

"One of your agents is here in my office. He has gotten absolutely nowhere in finding the people who are doing this. My sergeant and officer have identified one of the suspects in the Wells Fargo robbery. Agent Kesner is in this office demanding that he take over."

"Well, Bob, as you know the FBI does have jurisdiction with bank robberies," the president said, which caused a great big grin on Kesner's face.

"That is true, but I will be damn if an agent that has done nothing to solve these robberies is going to get the credit for what my officers have done. He is insisting that I give him the address of the suspect. I told him we would turn him over to him upon arresting him."

"Well, that sounds reasonable. Is Agent Kesner listening to this conversation?"

"Yes, Mister President, he is," Ironside answered.

President Whitmore knew that Bob did not ordinarily put him on speaker unless Whitmore himself requested it. He obviously wanted the agent to know that he had some pull with the president. "Agent Kesner?"

"Yes, Mister President." Kesner's voice was a bit shaky, he had never talked directly to a president before."

"If I were you I would let Bob Ironside's people pick up the suspect. When they turn him over to you, I would suggest that you give his office credit for cracking the case. That is not an order, Agent Kesner. I do not interfere with FBI investigations. It is simply a suggestion. I don't want you to feel any pressure from me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mister President. I suppose it will be alright for Ironside to pick him up."

"That is Chief Ironside, Agent Kesner. I doubt very highly that Chief Ironside calls you Kesner."

"Yes, sir. I apologize, sir."

"Direct that apology to Chief Ironside, not me," President Whitmore said. "Now is there anything else, Bob?"

"No, other than how are you doing really?" Ironside asked.

"I am coping. It is hard without Faye, but ... I am coping. I am going to be coming home for a short time, I hope we can get together."

Ironside smiled. "I look forward to it. Just give me a call when you get here."

"Oh I don't think that will be necessary. You will see it on the news, but I will give you a call to get together," the president said.

"I'll be waiting," Ironside told him.

"You never wait by a phone, Bob. I will be lucky to have the message relayed to you. Invite Katherine to join us."

"I'll do that. Thank you, Mister President."

"Goodbye, Bob."

"Goodbye, Mister President. Ironside hung up the phone. He turned to Agent Kesner. "So, who picks up Jed Clemens."

"I could ignore the president's suggestion," Kesner said. "As he said, he can't interfere with an FBI investigation.

"You could, but if you do, I will go to the papers and tell them that my people broke the case, not your office. Do you really think the San Francisco Chronicle will not post that story if I tell them?" Ironside challenged. "And you are right, the president can't interfere with an investigation, but he certainly can express his displeasure to your boss."

Kesner's expression changed immediately. There certainly had been enough publicity when Ironside and his famous lawyer brother had cleared the president of the murder of his wife. Ironside was a close personal friend of James Whitmore. It might not be such a good idea to butt heads with the detective under the circumstances. It could be a career breaker. "Alright, Chief. You pick up Clemens. We will hold a press conference giving your staff full credit for the bust."

"To hell with the press conference. Just take credit for the bust," Ironside said, causing grins to appear on the faces of Ed and Eve. Their boss was never concerned with who got the credit, he simply was not going to let Kesner come into his office and try to bully him. Ironside could not be bullied. He just made sure Kesner knew it.

"You will pick him up soon, then?"

"Ed, go get him. Eve, go with him," Ironside said.

"Thank you, Chief Ironside." He dropped a card on the table in front of the detective. "I can be reached at that number when you have him in custody." He didn't like the situation, but he would not push Ironside any further. He turned and went up the ramp and out the door.

"If you are going to allow him to take credit, then why go through the charade of calling the president," Randall asked, having been silent up to now.

"He won't take the credit, Dennis. He will announce that my office cracked the case."

"Well, now that that is settled, I will get out of here and back to my office," Randall said. He left without another word.

Ironside looked at Ed and Eve and barked, "Why are you two still here? Go pick up Clemens."

Ed and Eve beat a hasty retreat out of the office.

xxxx

Lieutenant Carl Reese got out of his vehicle. Mark Sanger exited the passenger side. There was already a crowd growing in the small courtyard behind the building. Reese spotted Officer Duffy and went straight for him. Mark stayed closed behind the lieutenant.

"What have we got, Duffy?" Reese asked.

"Another murder just like the first one," Duffy answered. "Beautiful girl, it's a shame."

Carl looked at the gathering crowd. "Duffy, move them back."

Duffy nodded. "The man in the light blue suit found her. I had one of the men hold him. He is over there." He pointed at a man who was on the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks." Reese looked at Mark and said, "Well, come on. You wanted a closer look." He turned and walked away, Mark was right behind him.

When they arrived at where the man was standing, the officer nodded at Reese and left to join the other officers on crowd control.

"I'm Lieutenant Reese." He did not bother to introduce Mark. "You are the one that found her?"

"That's right, Lieutenant. My name is Herb Lincoln, and no, I am not related to Abraham Lincoln. I get that question all the time."

Reese had not even considered asking him about his relationship to President Lincoln, so he ignored the statement. "Do you work here?" Reese asked.

"Yes, I am a night school professor. I just came to work. I usually sit out here and go over what I am going to cover in class."

"Mister Lincoln, did you see anyone in the courtyard or leaving it?"

"No, sir. This courtyard is not very big and is not used by very many students. That is the reason I come here. There was no one around when I got here. I spotted her and thought she might need help, so I went over to her, but as you can see, she is beyond help."

"Did you know her?" Reese asked.

"No, she was not in any of the classes I teach."

"Okay, if I have any other questions, I will contact you."

Reese left him standing there and headed over to the body. Mark went with him. When they arrived, Mark bent down as he immediately noticed the wire. "This is the same way Melinda Mitchell was killed. Look at the wire."

Reese was down beside Mark. "The bruises around her neck indicate a struggle. She did not give up without a fight."

Mark watched as Reese continued to inspect the body. He checked the surrounding area for anything that would give him a clue as to who killed the girl. "Mark, look at this."

Sanger looked behind the bench where there were footprints in the sparse grass. "Looks like he left something after all."

"It's not much but it is a start," Reese remarked.

"We have to start somewhere," Mark said.

"We? Seems your interest in this is more than just casual. Are you sure the chief is not taking over?"

"I'm sure, Carl. My only interest is these murders are happening here at this school. I have friends here. I don't want them to end up like this."

"Yeah, I hear ya," Reese responded. "Let's get an impression of the foot prints. Maybe the experts can give us an idea of the size and weight of this guy."

"Are you sure it's a guy?"

"I know, I know, the chief would say to consider all possibilities, but the truth is serial killers are almost always men."

"Serial killer? You are admitting it is a serial killer?"

Reese rubbed the back of his neck. "I hate to say it, Mark, but I don't think this is the end of the killing. I am afraid there are more to come."

Mark nodded. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yeah, it means Randall will have your boss take over eventually."

"Yeah, eventually." Mark wished the chief would take over now. He made a mental note to ask him about it again.


	4. Chapter 4

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 4

Agent Kesner had left Ironside's office. He had not been happy about the situation, but crossing the President of the United States was not a career advancing move. He was sure he felt Ironside's eyes on him as he exited his office.

Ironside sat with Dennis Randall, who had a big smile on his face. In fact, if it spread any further, it would turn into a grin. When Ironside noticed, he looked at his boss. "What do you find so amusing, Dennis?"

"Everyone is afraid of you and it is because you have a knack for using intimidation to get what you want. That man's face nearly turned white when you got the president on the phone."

"Whatever it takes, Dennis. I don't have time to nursemaid the sensitivities of a green FBI agent. If he were any kind of agent at all, he would have picked up on that man grabbing that pole. Ed and Eve did."

"Bob, Ed and Eve are excellent detectives. Something like that would never get past them. It was too obvious."

"Not obvious to that FBI agent."

"Tell me, you never try to take credit for anything, why did you insist the agent give your office credit for this bust?"

"Because he was arrogant. Besides I did tell him he could take credit in the end," Ironside pointed out.

Randall laughed. "There is not a snowball's chance in hell that he is going to do that and you knew it when you said it."

The corner of the chief's mouth turned up slightly. "Of course, I knew it. I wasn't about to let him get away with trying to bully me."

Randall chuckled. "He had no idea what he was walking into when he came in this office. I have to get back to the Hall of Justice. Good work, Bob, I have no doubt this will end up solving the entire string of bank robberies when all the videos of the banks are reviewed." The commissioner left the office as Ironside watched on.

xxxxx

Lieutenant Car Reese read the autopsy report on Donna Rasey. Frustrated, he threw the report on his desk in a fit of anger. He was no closer to finding out who was killing these women. How could this man kill two women and have no one see or hear a thing. It was obvious by the bruising on their fingers, that both of them had struggled with the killer. Yet, the man had succeeded in strangling two women who did not seem to let out a peep.

All he had so far was the man was using wire to kill them. Was he coming up behind them without their knowing or did these women know their killer? He did not know. He would try to see if there was someone that both women knew. It might be a start at identifying the man. The first thing he was going to do was find out where James Lander was at the time. He had supposedly been in class when his girlfriend, Melinda Mitchell was murdered. Carl still believed that he could have time to strangle her and then went to class. No one had seen her after he did, or at least no one that he knew of besides the killer.

Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any connection between the two women. Some serial killer just picked a victim and murdered them. A sick mind did not need a reason. They only needed opportunity. Yet, there had to be a motive. That brought Carl back to something the two women had in common.

There was a knock on the glass of his office. Carl looked up to see Officer Duffy standing there. He waived him in. Duffy opened the door and entered. Carl immediately noticed a large manilla envelope that he was carrying. The uniformed officer, who was a favorite of Ironside's, dropped the envelope on the desk in front of Carl.

"What's this?" Carl asked.

"A blow up of the footprint that was behind that bench, Lieutenant."

Carl opened the envelope and pulled out the photograph. It had a clear pattern that the killer's footwear had left. It was not much, but at least it was the first solid piece of evidence they had come up with. "I have never thought about it, but I wonder if shoe companies use distinctive patterns on the bottom of their shoes and boots."

Duffy pointed to a small mark on the photo of the imprint. "You see this? That zero with the X over top?"

"Yes, so what? What does that have to do with identifying the shoe company?" Carl asked.

"It has a lot to do with it. It is used and put in the exact same place on every pair of boot that they make. The imprint is a boot, Carl. The shoe company that makes them is call Dependable Footwear."

Carl grinned at Duffy. "How did you find this out?"

"Look at the pattern. It is consistent. It is all zeros, probably to give the boot some traction. Now look at the center of the boot. It is the only zero on the boot that has an X over top of it. I did some checking on the internet of the different kinds of boots and was able to find that is somewhat of a trademark for that company."

"Good work, Duffy. The chief would be proud of you. You will make an excellent detective someday."

"Yea, someday," Duffy said.

Carl smiled. "It'll come, Duffy. You already have an in with the Chief. He likes you."

Duffy smiled and got up to leave the office. "Oh, by the way, the guy wore a size ten."

"That is average. That tells me he wasn't a real big man," Carl said.

Duffy laughed as he left the office. "That removes the chief as a suspect."

Carl grinned as he left. Well at least he had something, no matter how little, to go on thanks to Duffy. He would be sure to give him credit when he talked to the chief. Duffy was a good cop and deserved promotion.

xxxx

Ed and Eve sat in the sergeant's black Ford sedan watching the house of Jed Clemens. They had picked up the warrant on the way. So far Clemens had not shown up at home. Earlier, when they had checked the place out, they had determined that no one was at home. He had to return sooner or later, so Ed made the decision to wait for a while. Quite frankly, he did not want to head back to Headquarters with out Clemens. After what had happened in the chief's office, they better pick him up or that FBI agent would start complaining that they let him get away.

Eve sat next to him in the passenger seat with her head back resting on the seat's headrest. Since nothing was happening, Ed did not disturb her. Stake-outs were always boring. There was nothing to do but to wait and watch, which was exactly what they were doing.

"Ed?" Eve said, getting the sergeant's attention.

"Yes, Eve."

"Have you noticed Mark has not been around the chief lately?"

"Yes, but I am not surprised. He has been seeing a lot of that gal he met at the college."

"You don't think there is a problem between him and the chief then?" Eve asked.

Brown chuckled. "Eve, just because he is not hanging around the chief every waking hour doesn't mean there is a problem between them. Besides, you remember what the office was like when Mark ignored the chief's suggestion that he stay away from Sam Noble, don't you?"

Eve smiled. "Yes, I remember. I had to have a talk with both of them. I remember asking the chief how could we solve the world's problems when we did not have peace in the office."

Ed laughed. "How'd the chief handle that?"

"He just looked at me and said, good point. He knew it, he was just worried Mark was getting in over his head."

"Which he was," Ed said.

"I agree, but I heard something that bothers me," she informed her superior officer, "and I did not want to go to the chief. I don't want Mark to think that I am spying on him."

Ed looked over at Eve and inquired, "Heard what?"

"Mark was at the scene of both of the strangler murders."

"Eve, you can't possibly think Mark had anything to do with it?" Ed groaned.

"Of course not, but from what I heard he questioned Melinda Mitchell's boyfriend and asked Carl if he could go with him to the scene of that second murder."

Ed frowned. "You don't suppose he is playing amateur detective, do you?"

Eve smiled at the thought. "He isn't an amateur. He has been involved in more cases than almost all the police in our building."

"Then what is the problem?"

"He still is not a cop, Ed and this is probably a serial killer we are dealing with."

"We?" Ed questioned. "I thought that was Carl's case."

"If there is one more murder, Commissioner Randall will be in the chief's office ordering him to take over the case."

"I am aware of that, but I still don't see your point," Ed said as he yawned.

"My point is that the chief will not be happy if he found out what Mark is up to. Do you really think that he will put up with it if he is forced to take over the case?"

"Probably not, but that is between Mark and the chief. He is his boss."

"I know, but ..." Eve stopped as she saw someone approaching the house they were watching. "I can't tell from here, is that Jed Clemens?"

"It looks like him. Let's go," Ed said. He opened the door and got out. Eve hurried out of the car and ran to catch up with him.

"Be careful, Ed, he could be armed," Eve warned.

As they approached the house, Jed Clemens was just putting the key into the door lock. He turned as he heard the two police officers come up on him. "I don't care what you are selling, I am not interested."

"We aren't selling anything, Mister Clemens," Ed said as he pulled out his San Francisco police badge. "SFPD, we want to talk to you."

"About what? I don't know anything about anything," he said as he opened the door. "So unless you have a warrant, you can just get lost."

Ed pulled the two warrants out of his suit coat pocket. "You mean like this?"

"What's the warrant for? I didn't do anything," he complained. "You just can't go around harassing me, I know my rights."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Mister Clemens. We have no intentions of violating your rights," Eve told him.

"What's the warrant for or are you just going to continue to harass me?" Clemens was sure this was nothing more than a shake down.

"You are under arrest for suspicion of robbing the Wells Fargo Bank," Brown stated.

"What? You can't be serious. I had nothing to do with any of those bank robberies. I am clean and you can't prove otherwise," he said with a smirk on his face. He knew they could not identify him with the nylon stocking he had over his head."

"You made a mistake, Jed. You really should not step out into the street in the middle of the block. You almost got yourself killed. Grabbing the light pole and pulling yourself out of that car's path probably saved your life."

The smirk was wiped from Clemens face as he realized neither he or his partner had worn gloves in that particular robbery. They had not discovered until they got there that there were no gloves in the back of the vehicle where they were normally kept. "I want a lawyer," he said.

"You'll get your lawyer. Now, I want you to step inside, " Ed said.

"For what? You just can't go traipsing around in my house without a warrant."

Ed pulled a second warrant out of his pocket. "You mean like this one? Come on, Jed, inside."

They entered his house. Ed and Eve looked around. There was a huge flat screen television mounted on the wall. The furniture was of top quality, quality Ed knew the man could not afford ... unless of course he was using money from the bank robberies to buy it.

"Look at this, Ed. Everything in here is extremely expensive."

"Expensive, what are you talking about? None of it cost very much. I don't make enough to buy anything but second-hand stuff," Clemens argued.

"If Eve says the stuff is expensive, than it is expensive. She knows, she comes from a wealthy background," Ed told the thief.

"You can't just hold me against my will. Either arrest me or get out," he shouted at the two officers.

"Okay, have it your way, Jed," Ed told him. "Eve, read him his rights." As Brown handcuffed Jed Clemens, Eve read him his miranda rights.

"I am going to search the place, Eve. You keep an eye on the suspect." Eve nodded in acknowledgement. Ed left the room and started searching the house.

"You have no right," Clemens snarled at Eve.

"The search warrant gives us the right, Mister Clemens. What are you worried about? If you have nothing to hide, than Sergeant Brown is not going to find anything, now is he ... or is he?"

Clemens looked away from her. She could see the worried look on his face. In the meantime, more police officers had entered the house and were helping Sergeant Brown with the search.

Twenty minutes later Ed re-entered the living room with a large shopping bag in his hand. He walked over to Jed Clemens and opened the bag. it was full of money. "Do you want to tell me about this?"

Jed looked into the bag. "I have no idea where it came from. You must have planted it, Brown." His voice was not as confident as he was trying to convey.

"Right," Ed said. "Tell me, will we find your prints on the money? You and your buddy did not use gloves. Will the serial numbers match the bank's records?"

Clemens looked at the money again and repeated, "I want to talk to a lawyer."

"You'll get your lawyer." Ed grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. Let's go, Eve, the boys will finish up here."

xxxx

Mark Sanger headed for the pizza parlor. He had wanted to check with Carl Reese on the second murder, but after running some errands and cooking the chief's dinner, he did not have the time. He wanted to get to the pizza place and meet Kimberly. Mark did not want her roaming around the campus alone, not with two murders having been committed there. When they left here, he could follow her to the college and make sure she was safe. He pulled the chief's van into the handicapped spot and parked it. He knew Chief Ironside would never approve of him parking it in a handicapped spot when he was not with him. Mark did it anyway as he had discovered he could see most of the parking lot from this spot, and he wanted to make sure he saw Kimberly as soon as she arrived.

He did not wait long for her arrival. He spotted the van as soon as she pulled in. She exited her vehicle and headed straight for Mark. Both she and Mark were unaware that she had been followed.

The Night School Strangler sat in a car just down the street from the pizza parlor, watching them as they headed into the pizza joint with their books in hand. She had no business going to school. Sanger should know that. Maybe he should teach him a lesson. He liked that idea. He wondered what kind of a lesson it should be. It did not take him long to decide. She had to be eliminated. That would remove another woman from the school and Sanger would be taught a lesson. He would wait until they went to the school and when the opportunity presented itself, he would kill her.


	5. Chapter 5

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 5

Mark Sanger and Kimberly sat in the pizza parlor eating pizza. With school books spread out all around the table, Kimberly looked across the table and smiled. "I thought we were going to do this after class. You were supposed to be taking care of your chief, weren't you?"

Mark had called Kimberly and suggested that they meet for pizza and study before class. She had been curious at the time wondering why he had changed their plans. "The chief was invited to dinner at Katherine's. That took me off the hook for fixing his dinner."

Kimberly didn't buy his explanation. "I have met Chief Ironside. I am betting that had you asked him, he would have made his own dinner, and you would not have had to change it to after class in the first place."

Mark set the piece of pizza he was about to eat back down on the plate. "He probably would have, Kimberly, but it is my job to take care of him. I have been out of the office a lot lately and did not want to ask him. Besides, as it turned out he had plans for dinner anyway. Would you have rather gone for pizza after class?"

"No, it really doesn't make any difference, I guess. So why have you been out of the office lately?" she asked.

Mark wondered how much he should discuss with her. After all it was a police investigation. He looked at her and decided she could be trusted. "You know there was another murder, don't you?"

"Yes, I heard it on the radio. All the girls I know are scared. They are starting to travel in groups around the campus, hoping that this maniac will be deterred from attacking a group of them."

"That is probably smart," Mark said. "Whoever is strangling the women is choosing victims that are alone and isolated, like the girl in the courtyard behind the building. She was alone there."

"How do you know she was alone?" Kimberly reached and took another slice of pizza. She watched Mark as she ate.

"The police can't find anyone that saw anything. The killer would never had attacked her if someone else had been in the courtyard," Mark explained.

"Are they any closer to catching this maniac at all?" Kimberly asked.

"They don't have much to go on at this point. I hate to say it but sometimes it takes several of these types of killings for the police to find the man doing it."

"Oh God! What a thought. What does your boss have to say about it?"

"He is not in charge of the investigation, Lieutenant Carl Reese is," Mark told her. "I talk to James Lander, Melinda's boyfriend. He is pretty devastated about her death. He and I are going to be checking on a few things."

"Do you think that is wise, Mark? This is a killer. Maybe you should leave it to the police."

"I have been in on enough police investigations, Kimberly. I know what I am doing."

"Well, I don't like it, but I know I can't stop you, so be careful."

Mark smiled. "You can count on it."

xxxx

Ironside looked over at his two detectives who were writing up their reports on the bank robberies. As the chief had anticipated, Jed Clemens, when faced with a long prison term, had turned on his partner and sang like a canary. Agent Kesner of the FBI had gone on one of the local news station claiming that with the help of Chief Ironside and his staff, the bank robberies were solved and had come to an end. Commissioner Randall had been correct, Kesner had given Ironside and his staff full credit for solving the case.

It really didn't matter to Robert Ironside who got the credit. What mattered to him that it had been stopped. If Agent Kesner had been more cooperative instead of taking a such adversarial approach, the chief would have allowed him to take all the credit. Ironside did not like and would not be bullied by any government agency. This was his city and he had sworn to protect it.

He decided to let it go as he watched Ed and Eve complete their reports. Eve walked over to Ed. "Have you figured out how to deliver it by email?"

"Eve, I am not completely incompetent, you know," the sergeant said.

"I know that, but you were never any good with the typewriter, so I figure you are not much better with the computer," she said with a grin.

"Why is it women think men can't type or know how to use computers?" Ironside said.

"Which one of you in this office can work that computer better than I can?" Eve countered.

Ed chuckled. "You have to admit, Chief. She has us there."

"I am far to busy to sit behind a computer, typing endlessly. Crimes are not solved behind a keyboard," Ironside growled.

"Actually, Chief, a lot of crimes are solved with a computer," Eve disagreed. That brought a look out of the boss that made her drop the subject.

"Well, if there is nothing else," Ed said, "I think I will head for home."

"Me too," Eve said. "It's been a long day.

As they stood up and prepared to leave the office, Ironside said, "Just a minute, both of you."

Ed and Eve gave each other a look. It seemed they were getting out of the office later and later all the time.

"Have either one of you talked to Mark? He has barely been around this office the last couple of days," Ironside asked. From the silence and his officers' inability to look him in the eye, Ironside surmised they knew something he didn't. "Okay, out with it, what is going on?"

When neither officer said anything, Ironside's patience was gone immediately. "That's an order!"

Eve sighed. "Mark has a girlfriend, her name is Kimberly... "

"I am aware of that. I have no doubt that is part of it, but I sense there is more," the chief said.

Ed and Eve again looked at one another. The chief rarely missed anything and their reluctance to look him in the eye would only cement his observance of Mark's behavior.

Eve was the one who spoke up. "Mark has an interest in the Night School Strangler cases."

"Night School Strangler? Are we already giving this maniac a name?" Ironside said.

"That is what Carl is calling him," Ed said. "There have now been two murders done in exactly the same way."

"What does that have to do with Mark?"

"It is happening at the night school he is attending," Eve said.

"Just how involved is he?" Ironside demanded.

"He has gone to both murder scenes," Ed told him. "The last one, he went with Carl."

"Mark is not a cop," Ironside complained. "Why is Carl letting him go to the murder scene with him?"

"You will have to ask Carl," Eve told the chief. "I assume Carl let him go because you have taken him to many murder scenes."

Ed held back the smile. Only Eve could get away with reminding the chief of that fact.

"Of course he has gone with me, he is my aid," Ironside snarled.

"Did they find anything on this last murder that would help?" the chief asked.

"There was a footprint behind the bench where she was found. Duffy was able to identify the company the boot was made in." Eve said.

"Duffy? Not Carl?"

"Officer Duffy was also on the scene of the murder. He checked into the imprint the shoe left," Ed said.

"And just how do the two of you know so much about this case?" Ironside asked, making both detectives a bit uncomfortable.

"Because of Mark's interest in the case, we did some checking before we came back here," Eve admitted.

"Why? It's Carl's case, isn't it? Don't we have enough of our own cases to handle?" Ironside demanded.

"Chief, you know as well as we do, if there are any more of these killings, the commissioner is going to demand that you take over the case. We are just keeping up on a case that will probably get dumped in your lap," Ed said.

"Besides, we have to make sure Mark doesn't get himself into any trouble," Eve added, but regretted it the minute she saw the look on the chief's face.

"Exactly what kind of trouble is he getting himself into?"

"Well, nothing that we know of, at least not yet. However, we do know that he was seen questioning James Lander," Eve pointed out.

"Melinda Mitchell's boyfriend?" Ironside questioned, but really already knew. The truth was, he had been following the two cases himself. He had called down to homicide and asked for details when his officers were out. He had not been aware of Mark's involvement in the case. Ironside knew Mark had excellent instincts when it came to solving cases. He had involved him in more of their cases than most detectives would see. It did not mean he approved of him going off on his own to try and solve a murder case, especially one that just might involve a serial killer. He would have to have a talk with him when he returned home.

"That's right, Chief," Ed said.

"What was Mark doing questioning suspects?" Ironside roared.

"Suspect?" Eve questioned. "Carl said he was in class when it happened."

"So Lander says," Ironside responded. Since they can't give us an exact time of the murder and he was the last one to see her alive, that makes him a suspect in my book and it should make him one in yours."

"So what do we do about it?" Ed said.

"You will do nothing but go home and get some sleep. I will talk to Mark when he gets home."

Ed and Eve got up and headed up the ramp. When Ironside heard the door close, he picked up the phone. Dialing Carl Reese's office, he waited for an answer.

"Lieutenant Reese," he greeted his caller.

"Carl, have you got a minute?" Ironside asked.

"Always have time for you, Chief. What do you need?" Reese answered.

"The murders at the college."

"What about them?"

"Mark has been at both scenes."

"That's right. I think he is interested because they happened at his school. Why? Is there a problem?"

"Were you aware Mark questioned James Lander?" Ironside asked.

There was silence at the other end of the phone. "No, I was not aware of it. Did he tell you why he questioned him?"

"I have not had a chance to talk to him, but I will when he gets back from class. Carl, I don't want Mark involved in this. If this is a serial killer..."

"If it is a serial killer, Mark could be putting himself in danger, is that it?"

"That is exactly it," Ironside said.

"Okay, Chief, I won't give him any further information," Carl promised.

"Thanks Carl." Ironside ended the conversation and hung up the phone.

xxxx

Mark Sanger and Kimberly Gilmore collected their belongings and headed out of the pizza parlor to go to class. "Why don't you ride with me. I will bring you back here to pick up your car," Mark suggested.

Kimberly smiled. "That is a great idea, Mark, but you would not just be doing it because you don't want me wandering around the campus alone, would you?"

Mark took her books from her and added them to his own. "I don't want you wandering the campus alone, that's true, but I have ulterior motives."

Kimberly stopped their forward motion and with a smirk, said, "And what might that be."

"I get to spend more of my time close to you," he admitted.

"Well," she said with a laugh, "I guess I can't find fault with that, now can I?"

When they arrived at the chief's van, Mark opened the door on the passenger side. Helping Kimberly climb into the van, he closed the door and went around to the driver's side.

They did not notice they were being watched by a man sitting in a vehicle nearby. He had wondered if they were ever going to come out of that damn pizza parlor. How long could it possibly take two people to eat two or three slices of pizza? He had been afraid that someone would notice him sitting there. The last thing he needed was someone taking down his license number, but than again what difference would that make. The car had been stolen from a Ford Plant parking lot. He had made sure it belonged to someone who was just coming into work for their eight-hour shift.

He watched the van pull away, turned on the ignition and moved slowly down the street behind it. Sanger was not a cop, but he could not have worked with cops as long as he did without developing some of their instincts. He stayed well behind him. He did not want him discovering that he was being followed.

He wondered if he should just kill Sanger as well. After all, by dating the bitch, he was encouraging her behavior. Women belonged at home taking care of their family. There was no need for an education. Sanger should know that. Still, he was a man and he had to make a living. He would not hold it against him since most women were in the work force nowadays. He would kill the woman with him. He would not allow her to live and continue to contaminate the campus like so many others were doing. He would get to them shortly. This one was important. Since she was Sanger's girlfriend, and Sanger worked for Chief Robert Ironside, this should get plenty of attention in the news.

Mark parked the van a distance away from the building their classes were being held. When Kimberly noticed the handicapped sticker in the window, she said, "You missed a handicapped spot. Why don't you circle the parking lot and go back to it."

"You don't know the chief. He would be upset if he found out I parked in a handicapped parking spot when he is not with me. You have to understand, he is in a wheelchair and he knows how important it is for handicapped people to have those parking spots. I can walk," he grinned, "and so can you." He hoped she had not noticed that the vehicle was in a handicapped parking spot at the pizza parlor.

Kimberly poked Mark in the ribs. "Alright, we certainly would not want to upset Chief Ironside, although I don't know how he could possibly find out."

"Believe me, you don't want to upset him and sometimes I swear he can read minds." Mark got out of the van and went around to the other side carrying their books. He opened the door for Kimberly who slid out of the seat and onto the ground.

"We should have checked each other's schedules. We could be in all the same classes together," she said.

"Just be sure when you get out of class that you wait inside for me. I will meet you at the drinking fountain," Mark told her. He gave her a quick kiss and the two of them headed into the building.

The Night School Strangler watched as Sanger and the woman went inside. Now all he had to do was wait. Then he wondered how he was going to find the woman alone. Sanger would surely accompany her out of the building and to Ironside's vehicle. He would not be able to get anywhere near her if he was with her. He had to figure out a way to get her away from him if he were to punish her for what she had done.

He sat in his car. Maybe a fake call from Ironside calling him back to the office. No that probably would not work, Sanger would simply call his boss to see what was up. There had to be another way. How was he going to do it? He knew that her friend was Joanne Hart. She would be arriving shortly. That was it! He would use her friend to get Gilmore out of the building.

The Night School Strangler drove his car to the back of the parking lot. Joanne Hart was from a very rich family. She drove a very expensive sports car. Probably afraid someone would mar the doors, Hart always parked it at the back of the lot and walked in. It would be a perfect opportunity to abduct her. He waited for about fifteen minutes before she drove in with her brand new top-of-the-line Corvette. He had to admit that it was a beautiful vehicle, one only men should be driving. Women did not need to learn to drive.

He got out of the vehicle and walked calmly over to her as if only passing her to head into the building for class. She glanced back at him and smiled. "I didn't know you had a class tonight."

He smiled back. "I am studying to be a lawyer. I have classes almost every night."

"Well, it was nice to see you, but I have to get to class. I am already late." She turned and started to walk away from him when she felt the wire come around her neck. Joanne struggled to pull the wire from her neck as it tighten. She tried to call out but her air had been cut off. Reaching back she used her long fingernails to scratch his face. She had been aiming for his eyes, but the Night School Strangler was ready for her. He dragged her into the shadows where no one would see them.

He put one hand around her mouth as he pulled out some duct tape. It was then she realized he was wearing gloves. Stomping her heal into his foot, she tried to loosen his grip on her to no avail. He put the tape across her mouth and grabbed both of her wrists, tying them behind her back with wire. She could feel the pain of the wire digging into her wrist.

Once he got her under control, he said, "You are going to text Kimberly Gilmore. Tell her you have sprained your ankle and are leaning on Chief Ironside's van. Ask her to come out here and help you. If you do, I will let you live." He removed the tape so that she could speak.

If Joanne Hart had been thinking clearly, she would have realized he had no intention of allowing her to live. She could identify him, but she was terrified of what he might do to her. She looked up at him and asked, "What are you going to do to her?"

"Nothing, I just want to talk to her. And don't try calling the police when I release you. I have a friend that will claim I was with him all night, that you are an old flame that has been stalking me. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head. She did not even realize that the tears were streaming down her face. She reached into her purse and felt the mace. When she pulled it out, he immediately swatted it out of her hands.

"Try something like that again and you will regret it. Now, the phone please."

She pulled the phone out of her purse, opened the texting program and sent a text to Kimberly. The Night School Strangler yanked it from her hands and read the message. Smiling, he said, "Good girl. By the way, I lied when I said I would release you." He threw the wire around her neck and squeezed. Joanne Hart could not even attempt to scream as all of her air had been cut off immediately, and she could not put up much of a fight with her hands behind her back. She succumbed rather quickly and easily.

He made sure he pulled her back into the bushes behind the parking lot so that she would not be discovered before Kimberly Gilmore came out. Getting into his car, he headed for Ironside's vehicle.


	6. Chapter 6

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 6

Kimberly Gilmore's phone vibrated in her pocket. She had shut the sound off so as not to disturb other students. She pulled the offending device out of her pocket and pressed the text message icon. It was from her friend, Joanne Hart. When she saw that she had sprained her ankle, she gathered up her books and put the phone back in her pocket.

Kimberly quietly left the classroom. As she came upon Mark's classroom, she wondered if she should enlist his help, if for no other reason than to have his protection. She shrugged at the thought. The vehicle was parked a couple rows over. She would not be in the parking lot that long. She just had to help Joanne into the building. No sense in disturbing Mark and his classmates. His instructor might not be too understanding.

Kimberly carried her books toward the parking lot exit door. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the night air. She loved this time of night, and being able to spend it with Mark was a plus. Mark ... maybe she should go back and get him. No, she had already decided not to disrupt his class. This would not take that long. Besides the strangler had not been that bold that he killed women where someone would witness it. He was doing it in remote areas of the campus. A parking lot could hardly be considered remote. Students went in and out of it constantly. He would not bother anyone in a parking lot that was well lit.

Waiting at Ironside's van, the Night School Strangler picked the lock on the back door. It would be a perfect place to drag the Gilmore woman. No one could see into the van. Just wait until Sanger discovered her in the back of his van. Maybe he would get lucky and Sanger would be charged with killing the women. Unfortunately, it would not last for long, only until the next time he punished a woman for trying to act like a man. It might be fun to see Sanger squirm ... if only he could see it.

He stepped inside Ironside's van and was amazed at the equipment inside. The lift itself was something to marvel at, but the rest of the equipment was amazing. The man had everything inside this bucket. It looked like the cockpit of a jetliner. The Night School Strangler wished he had the time to inspect it, but Kimberly Gilmore would be along any minute. He had to be ready for her.

He got out of the van and jumped down to the pavement. Looking around the parking lot, he checked to be sure there would be no witnesses. It was imperative that no one was around. He would not take the chance of discovery. He had way too much work to do, too many women to eliminate from the campus. He could not be seen doing so. Even the laws were screwed up these days. More and more courts were ruling in the favor of women, equal rights they say. Women were not equal to men in any way, so why should they have any rights at all?

He heard someone approaching. The Night School Strangler peaked around the side of Ironside's van. Kimberly Gilmore was coming. He had her in his sights.

She continued to walk toward the van. Everything was coming together. The Night School Strangler looked around once again to be sure that no one was in this section of the parking lot. To his relief, he could spot no students in the area.

As Kimberly approached Ironside's van, he was there to greet her. "Hello, Kimberly."

She did not know his name, but she did recognize his face. "Where is Kimberly?"

"She is in the back of Ironside's vehicle. I was just heading into class when I saw her beside the van. She told me that she had already texted you regarding her sprained ankle. I decided I better wait until you arrived in case either of you needed help."

Unfortunately, since Kimberly had seen him around the campus on many occasions, she did not suspect anything was wrong. "Well, okay, I better take a look at her ankle. She may need to go to the hospital if it is broken. We cannot be sure that it is just a sprain."

"Good point, Kimberly. I agree. My vehicle is just over there," he said, pointing to another section of the parking lot.

"I appreciate that and I am sure that Joanne's vehicle is here as well. However, I can go back inside and get Mark Sanger to take us to the hospital. We can come back for her vehicle later. Mark is Chief Ironside's aide. I am sure the chief would not mind if we used the van. But, I thank you for all you have done."

Kimberly went around to the back of the vehicle. That turned out to be a fatal mistake as she turned her back on the Night School Strangler. He pulled out the wire from his back pocket. With her back to him, his task became simple. He put the wire around her throat and begin tightening it to the point of cutting off her air. Kimberly kicked and attempted to scream, but to no avail. Her last thoughts were of Mark Sanger and the fact that she would never know where the relationship could have gone. As she took her last breath, her body became limp. The Night School Strangler pushed her dead body into the back of Ironside's van and slammed the door. Using a handkerchief, he wiped the handles clean of his fingerprints, just has he had done on the inside of the vehicle. Glancing around the parking lot, he made sure that no one had seen him, then headed for his own vehicle.

*

Mark closed his textbook as the professor ended the class. He was looking forward to spending the rest of the evening with Kimberly. Picking up his books, he left the classroom. The halls were full of students as all classes ended at the same time. Mark checked every female face that passed him looking for Kimberly. After about ten minutes, he began to become concerned. Kimberly was nowhere in sight.

Mark stopped one of the girls in the hall that he knew was in her class. "Hi, Mark. I thought you would be long gone."

"Why would you think that?" he asked.

"Well, Kimberly left the classroom nearly thirty minutes ago."

Before she could say another word, Mark took off on a dead run to the parking lot. He shoved the doors open with such a force that they hit the building. He looked over the parking lot, but could not spot Kimberly. Students were everywhere headed for their vehicles. Not knowing where to look, he went back to the Chief's van. All he could think about was contacting Chief Ironside. He crossed over to the driver's side of the vehicle and jumped inside. As he grabbed the police receiver, he looked into the rear view mirror. He was horrified at what he saw. Mark got out of the seat and went into the back of the vehicle. Lying there was his Kimberly. He checked her pulse. He was too late. Having worked with police detectives for some time now, he knew better than to touch anything. He could not help himself as he ran his hand down Kimberly's cheek. Why had she not heeded his warning about exiting the building alone? He sat there for about ten minutes holding Kimberly's hand before he finally let go and went back to the front of the van.

Mark dialed the only number in which he knew would result in his boss entering the investigations of the Night School Strangler. As he waited for the phone to be answered, he could not help but blame himself. He should have left his class a bit early and met Kimberly outside of her classroom door. He was not thinking clearly as that still would have resulted in him finding her in the back of Chief Ironside's van in the same condition.

The gruff voice of his boss answered, "Ironside."

Mark found himself speechless at the sound of his friend's voice.

"Hello, Ironside said. "Who's there?"

"Chief, it's Mark."

"Mark, where the devil are you? We need to have a talk. You have injected yourself into a police matter that you have no business doing. I want you back here immediately."

"Chief, Kimberly has been murdered."

There was silence on the other end of the telephone. When Ironside finally responded, his voice was considerably softer. He had been fully aware that Mark had been seeing Kimberly on a personal basis. "Mark, I am sorry. Where are you?"

"The parking lot outside the building where my class was held."

"Who found her?"

"I did," he answered.

"Where?"

"In the back of your van. She was strangled to death with a wire."

"I am on my way. Mark, I don't have to tell you not to disturb the scene."

"I won't, I didn't."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Ironside said before hanging the receiver back into the cradle. Robert Ironside picked the phone back up immediately and called Sergeant Brown.

"Hello," said the sleepy voice of Ed Brown.

"Ed, get over to the campus where Mark goes to school. There has been another strangulation," Ironside informed him.

"But, I thought that was Carl Reese's investigation," Ed protested.

"The woman was Kimberly Gilmore."

With that revelation, Ed was fully awake. "I am on my way."

"Ed, wake up Eve. I want her there as well."

Sergeant Brown was already out of bed as he answered his boss. "Will do, Chief." He hung up the phone abruptly and headed for the bathroom

*

Ironside waited impatiently for Carl Reese to show up at police headquarters. He called him immediately upon hanging up with Ed Brown. After all, it was Carl Reese's case. At least, it was until Commissioner Randall insisted that Ironside take the case, which he expected would happen first thing in the morning.

Reese pulled into the police garage and parked his car. He got out and met Ironside at the elevator as he was getting off.

"What the blazes took you so long?" Ironside snarled.

"Chief, I got here as quickly as possible." He stepped behind Ironside's wheelchair and pushed him towards his vehicle. Opening the passenger door, he then helped the disabled detective into the car. "How's Mark handling it?" Carl asked him.

"Just how the hell do you think he is handling it?" Ironside said gruffly.

"Yeah," Carl responded, knowing exactly what the chief meant.

For Ironside, the drive seem to take forever. He knew his friend and aide would be hurting. As much as he knew there wasn't anything he could do about that, he had to be there for him. Mark had come such a long way since the days that Ironside had arrested him. The young man had completely turned his life around. Chief Ironside wanted to make sure that it continued. He did not want him going on a one-man Army to find out who killed his girlfriend.

He remembered back when another of Mark's girlfriends was murdered. Mark had taken the case into his own hands. Desperate to find the killer, whom he believed to be Joe Fenway, Mark had interfered with every aspect of the investigation. As it had turned out, Pogo Weems had been responsible for the girlfriend's death.* Ironside had to make sure that Mark did not repeat his mistakes with this case. The chief had no doubt that his young aide would blame himself for Kimberly's demise even though it was not true. She had fallen prey to a serial killer.

Lieutenant Reese pulled his vehicle up next to Ironside's van. Mark Sanger immediately got out of the van and came over to Reese's vehicle.

"She's in the back of the van, Chief."

Carl removed the wheelchair from the trunk of his vehicle, opened it and wheeled it to the passenger side of the car. Out of habit, Mark stepped in and helped Ironside into his wheelchair. He pushed him over to the back of his van.

Ironside looked inside. Mark had turned on the interior lights which made it easier to survey the situation.

Carl Reese jumped into the van and began examining the victim. It looks like the same MO as the other victims," he told Ironside.

Ed Brown's Ford pulled up beside Carl's vehicle. Ed and Eve exited the car and joined Ironside and Reese.

"I called in a forensic team," Ed told his boss. "They are on their way."

Within minutes that team arrived on the scene. Ironside told them, "I want this van gone over with a fine-tooth comb. If he was inside, he had to have left his DNA in here somewhere." The police officers nodded and went to work.

Ironside turned his attention to his detectives. "You two spread out, find out if anyone saw or heard anything." Ed and Eve left him immediately to obey his orders.

Ironside looked at Mark and could see the devastated expression on his face. "I know this is going to be hard, but I need to ask you some questions."

Sanger simply nodded.

"Did you see her to class?" Ironside asked.

"Yes, I did. I told her not to go into the parking lot without me. She was supposed to wait in the hall, we were to leave the building together."

"Then she completely ignored you," Ironside surmised.

"No, I don't think so," Mark told his boss. "I ran into one of her friends in the hall that is in her class. She told me that Kimberly got a text message on her phone. It was at that point that she gathered her books and left the classroom."

"What was the name of the student?" Ironside questioned.

"Her name is Alexis."

"I need a last name, Mark."

"I don't know her last name, but it should not be difficult to get it. It's not exactly a real common name."

"Then what happened?"

"I immediately ran out here to the parking lot. When I didn't spot her anywhere, I came directly over to the van. I got in, picked up the phone and was going to call you when I looked into the rear view mirror."

"That's when you saw her," Ironside said gently.

"Yes."

Ironside wheeled back over to the rear of his vehicle. Carl Reese was directing the forensic team to fingerprint the inside of the vehicle. He turned to Ironside and said, "We will have to eliminate fingerprints of the four of you in order to identify any others that might be in the van."

"Our prints are all on file," Ironside told him. "Carl, see if you can locate Kimberly's cell phone."

Carl nodded and jumped back into the back of the van. Within only a moment, he returned to Mark and Ironside. Using a handkerchief, he was holding a purse in his hand and he gave it to the chief. "There is a cell phone inside. I didn't touch it since it could have fingerprints on it."

Ironside called a member of the forensic team. After having the phone dusted for prints, the police officer handed the phone to Ironside.

The chief turned the phone on, pressed the text icon and checked for the latest message received. It was from Joanne Hart.

Standing over the Chief's shoulder, Mark read the message. "Joanne sent her a message. According to this, she sprained her ankle."

"It obviously was a phony message. The killer must have made her send the message to Kimberly," Ironside said.

"Kimberly was a caring person. She would have responded immediately to help Joanne," Mark told his boss.

"I am afraid that cost her her life," Carl said. "And unless fingerprints other than yours show up in the van, we still do not have much to go on."

"But, we do know that the killer must have been familiar to Kimberly Gilmore" Ironside pointed out.

"How do we know that?" Carl asked.

"Kimberly knew about the killings. She would not have gone up to a complete stranger," Mark said.

"She could have if she thought her friend was in trouble," Carl disagreed.

"No, I don't think so," Ironside said, agreeing with Mark. "She was an intelligent young lady. She would not have gone around to the back of that van with a complete stranger, regardless if he had told her that Joanne was inside. No, I agree with Mark, she knew the killer. It was someone that she trusted enough to possibly have gotten inside that van."

"We have another problem. Where is Joanna Hart? I don't think the chances of finding her alive are very good," Carl told Ironside.

"Was there anything in the van that might indicate where she is?" Ironside asked him.

"Nothing" Carl answered.

Ironside looked around. It was dark and difficult to see beyond the parking lot. He doubted they would find Joanne Hart in the parking lot. He would have found somewhere to hide the body. Like Carl, Ironside did not believe for one minute that the Strangler would allow her to live. She would be able to identify him. He looked upward to see if he could spot trees. At the far end of the parking lot, he could see the tops of trees against the sky. "Carl," he said pointing, "over there."

"I'll check it out" Carl said, knowing that Ironside was thinking he would have hidden her body in the bushes. Trees might indicate that there were bushes in that area.

Ironside shook his head as he saw Ed Brown coming toward them. "Never mind Carl, I will have Ed do it."Brown approached them and from the look on his face, Ironside knew no information would be forthcoming.

"Chief, neither Eve nor I have been able to find anyone who saw or heard anything at all. The students we spoke to were all in class at the time of the murder. The students that would have entered the parking lot first were probably already gone when we started questioning people. Those we did question saw nothing out of the ordinary," Sergeant Brown informed him.

"Did you take down names?" Ironside asked him.

"Yes sir, we have a list of names of students we spoke to."

"All right, Ed, let that go for now. We can always question them later. Have Eve get a list of every student that attended any of the classes in this building tonight. I want it compared to who was in classes on the night of the other murders. Let's see how many were at the school when every murder was committed."

"All right, Chief, but we don't even know if it was a student that is committing the murders."

"Do you want to assume it isn't?" Ironside said sarcastically.

"No sir, of course not. I'll get right on it."

"In the meantime, come with me. Joann Hart is missing. The Strangler would have killed her too. She would be able to identify him. She has to be around here somewhere. Let's start looking over there where those trees are. Bring a few of the boys with us."

Brown ask for a couple uniformed officers to join them and all of them headed for the trees at the back of the parking lot. When they arrived, Ironside was convinced that they would find Joanne Hart in the bushes beside the trees. He sent Ed and the two uniformed officers into the wooded area to search.

Within only a matter of a few minutes Ironside heard Ed call out, "Over here!"

Mark pushed the chief's chair into the wooded area despite the trouble of navigating the ground. He was able to get him within a couple feet of where Sergeant Brown had discovered the body.

"Ed?"

"She was strangled with a wire, Chief."

Using the flashlight that Carl had taken from his van, Ironside checked the ground. Directly beside Joanne Hart's body were footprints. "Pull out your cell phone and get pictures of those prints. Have the boys do a cast of them. I am betting they will match the footprints of the woman murdered in the courtyard."

Brown nodded and turn to follow out the chief's orders.

Ironside sat in his chair watching his detectives and officers work. This maniac had to be stopped before he had a chance to kill again. The chief was determined to fine this killer, and the look on Mark's face told him Mark was going to be involved whether Ironside liked it or not.

*Refers to the Ironside episode, "Due Process of Law."


	7. Chapter 7

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 7

Ironside was up bright and early the next morning. He had not tried to engage Mark in conversation when they got back from the murder scene. He doubted that the young man had any patience for anymore questions. Ironside had lived with Mark for some time now and he had learned to read his moods, probably better than Mark could read his.

The chief entered the kitchen to the smell of bacon, which probably meant Mark was cooking eggs as well. He really was not in the mood for breakfast. Coffee would have been sufficient.

When he arrived at the main table, he could see Mark getting ready to put the eggs in the pan.

"Mark, if those eggs are for me, don't bother. I am not really hungry."

Sanger put the eggs back in the refrigerator. He placed the bacon on one plate and pulled down two mugs. After filling them with coffee, he carried both mugs in one hand by the handles. In his other hand, he held the plate of bacon.

Mark set the bacon on the table and then set one of the mugs of coffee in front of Chief Ironside. He sat down to the chief's left and grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate. Without a word spoken between them, they drank the coffee and nibbled on the bacon. Neither man seemed to have an appetite for even bacon.

Ironside glanced at Mark every so often to see if he might be ready to talk about Kimberly's death. He would not rush him but he would not let him sit and stew either. It was not healthy, and Mark had a history of going off on his own in situations liked this. He would have to be extra watchful to make sure Mark did not do what he did last time a girl he had dated was murdered.

The door to the office opened, Ed Brown and Eve Whitfield walked in and came down the ramp. They grabbed coffee from the kitchen, and headed back to the main table. Under usual circumstances, the chief and his officers would exchange good mornings, but today he understood they were silent in respect to Mark.

The door to the office opened and Commissioner Randall walked in. He too failed to say anything, walking into the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee. Heading to the table he sat down, fully aware that Ironside kept a scrutinizing eye on him.

Finally, the commissioner spoke up. "Mark. You must know how badly everyone feels about Kimberly."

"I do, Commissioner, but I don't want sympathy, I want this creep caught and behind bars where he belongs," Mark said.

"Which is exactly why I am here." He turned his attention from Mark to Ironside. "Bob, I called Carl Reese into my office this morning rather early to let him know that my decision does not reflect on the job he has done on this case. He has not had much time to investigate it. However, I can't let that have a bearing on my decision. As soon as word got out about this latest killing, I have had a call from every City Council member. They are worried about a panic. They want this man caught and put behind bars before he kills again. Now I know Carl is an excellent investigator, but I need my best man on the case. That is you. So, as of right now, I am ordering you to take over the investigation immediately. Don't bother to give me any hassle because you don't like moving in on another detective's case. I think Carl was happy to have you take over."

Mark studied his boss. Randall was right, he did not like interfering with another detective's case unless it was one that he held an interest in for one reason or another. He was ready to argue his reasons for wanting the chief involved. As it turned out, it would not be necessary.

"Dennis, this is one you couldn't keep me away from. So unless you have something else to add, we have work to do."

Ed smiled and noticed Eve was doing the same. How many men got away with practically kicking their boss out?

Randall stood up. As he headed for the door, he call out, "Good luck, Bob. Catch this maniac before he kills again."

After he left the office, the room became silent as Ed, Eve, and Mark waited for the chief to start issuing orders.

"Ed, get over to the college. I want campus security on duty every minute that school is opened. They need to have their people working in a rotation. I don't care if they don't get a day off. Go to the dean and work out a schedule. And make sure they are not in uniform and in places this killer would not expect. Maybe we will get lucky and catch him in the act.

"Eve, I want that list of students that have been in class every time a murder has been committed."

Ed and Eve got up and headed out the door. Mark headed for the door as well.

"Just where do you think you are going?" Ironside said to Mark.

All three of them stopped and looked back at the chief. Mark told him, "I am going to help."

"No, you are not. You are staying here. You two get going," he ordered Ed and Eve.

Mark walked back to the table and sat down beside Ironside. "Chief, I have to be involved. He murdered Kim. I want to help catch him."

"Mister Sanger, you are not a cop. In fact, you decided you want to be a lawyer, not a cop."

"Chief, come on," he protested.

"Now you listen to me. I don't want a repeat of what happened the last time your date was murdered when I called you away from her. You just about blew the entire investigation."

"That is not going to happen again, Chief... "

"That's right, it's not going to happen again," Ironside agreed, "because you are staying out of this one completely."

"Chief, he killed Kimberly. I have to be involved."

"You are not a cop. You already interfered by questioning a potential suspect."

"Interfered? Why wasn't he questioned, why didn't they enlist his help?" Mark asked angrily.

"Carl Reese is an extremely effective detective. He doesn't need your help or your advice," Ironside said, attempting to keep his voice calm so that the disagreement would not escalate. He wasn't sure he was succeeding as his temper was rising.

"I know that, Chief. But this investigation is going way too slow. This maniac has killed several women and we don't have a clue who he is or how to stop him."

Ironside shook his head and muttered, "deja vu."

"What did you say?" Mark said.

"Nothing. Why is it you are so level headed until you become emotionally involved in a case? There isn't one of us that doesn't feel for you. You have got to understand that everything is being done that is humanly possible to find this man. Unfortunately, we cannot look into a crystal ball, see who is doing it and say abracadabra to catch the guy. You have to be patient. You can't expect to find him immediately. It would be nice if we could, but these sorts are always very cunning.

"We went through this once before, remember? Mark, so help me, if I have to, I'll put you in a cell for the duration of this investigation. I understand your feelings, I really do, but I cannot have you interfering with an investigation."

"Chief, he killed Kimberly."

Ironside said nothing for the moment. He remembered telling Ed or Eve that if this had happened to a woman he had been seeing, the city of San Francisco would have thought they were having an earthquake. He understood how Mark felt, but he could not allow him to go off on his own investigating a serial killer. It was far too dangerous as Mark could not carry a weapon to protect himself. Yet, he had allowed Mark to become involved in many of their cases. Maybe it was not such a bad idea to allow him to be involved in this one. He simply had to find a way to curb his appetite for vengeance. Mark had learned a lot about investigating in his time working for Ironside. If he could keep him under control, he might be an asset at that.

"All right, Mister Sanger, I am going to allow you to help with this one. You will need to understand the ground rules immediately. There will be no going off on your own to investigate anything. You will be working directly with me. Where I go on this, you go. If you have ideas on how to handle this case, I am willing to listen, but you are taking orders from me. I am telling you up front, you disobey my orders just once and I will put an end to your involvement immediately regardless of your explanation. Is that clear?"

"It's clear," Mark replied.

"All right then." Ironside turned back to the paperwork in front of him.

Mark watched him for a moment. His boss's silence finally got to him. "Well?"

"Well what?" Ironside said, looking up at him.

Mark had to refrain from rolling his eyes. "Well, where do we start?"

"We start by waiting until Eve and Ed have had a chance to complete their assignments. Then we will decide where to go from there."

"That's it?" Mark asked incredulously.

"Are you questioning my judgment?" Ironside growled.

"Of course not, I just thought..."

"You just thought what?"

"I just thought there was something we could do at this end," Mark responded.

"There is. We wait."

Sanger looked at his boss and shook his head. He turned around and went into the kitchen to make a new pot of coffee.

*

The night school strangler sat at the kitchen table holding his head in both hands. His headache was monstrous. Why did he have these headaches? This one had become completely unbearable. He knew what would happen when they got this bad. He could not listen, he had to ignore the voice. That voice would encourage him to do bad things. He did not want to do bad things, he just wanted the headaches to go away.

He had been to so many doctors, but none of them had been able to determine why the headaches got so bad. He did not tell them that when they got bad, a voice started talking to him. That voice was an evil voice. He knew he shouldn't listen to it, but the only way to lessen the headaches was to follow the advice of the voice.

The night school Strangler never remembered what he did. He only knew that after the voice talk to him, he would read in the paper about another murder, or at least hear about it on the campus. He couldn't possibly be responsible, could he? No, he would never hurt anyone. He had found out that Kimberly Gilmore had been strangled and left in Robert Ironside's van. He liked Kimberly. He would never hurt her. He just couldn't believe he was capable of what the voice kept telling him to do. Yet every time it did, somebody ended up dead. Maybe he should go to the authorities and turn himself in. He had thought about it after the second murder. Yet, he had not been able to bring himself to do it because he wasn't a murderer. He just couldn't do that. He knew it couldn't be him. It was only a coincidence that a woman was murdered after the voice told him to do so.

He would make another attempt to set up an appointment with the doctor's office. He had to find out why the headaches were so bad.

"You don't need an appointment with the doctor. There is nothing wrong with you. You simply need to keep doing your job. Women do not belong in the work world. There is no reason for them to go to school. They are polluting the system. You must keep eliminating them from the school. It is time for you to remove another one. You must do so tonight. Do you understand?"

The night school Strangler grabbed his head with both hands. He shook it back and forth. "No, I will not do that. I will not kill anyone. You cannot make me."

"Oh but I can. You do want the headaches to go away, don't you? There is only one way that will happen. You must eliminate another woman from the college. Once you have done that, the headaches will subside. You will do so tonight or the headaches will get worse."

The voice disappeared. He heard no more from it. His headache was driving him to distraction. He picked up the phone and dialed his doctor's office. He must get help with these headaches. He could not listen to the voice. He could not do as it asked. He would not do it. His only hope was that doctors would help him. He had to try again. He was afraid of what would happened if he didn't.

*

Sergeant Ed Brown was directed to the Dean's office of the college. He knocked on the door and heard a voice say, "Come in."

Brown open the door and entered the Dean's office. He pulled his police credentials out of his suit coat pocket and showed them to the dean. "I am Sergeant Ed Brown of the San Francisco Police Department. I would like to talk to you regarding the strangulation murders that have been going on here at the college."

Dean William Westerfield stood up and shook Ed Brown's hand. "Well, it is about time. When is the police department going to stop these murders?"

"That is exactly what we intend to do. I am here to solicit your cooperation in doing so."

"Our cooperation? We are not the police. It is your job to stop these murders, not ours," Dean Westerfield snapped.

"Dean Westerfield, we intend to stop them, what we are asking for is your cooperation."

"Just exactly what do you expect us to do? Find this man?"

Through the years, Ed Brown had met many people that took adversarial positions with the police department. Although, it was sometimes hard to be patient, Sergeant Brown always tried to remember that he represented Chief Robert Ironside in situations like this. He would hold his temper and remain calm. Perhaps much calmer than Chief Ironside himself would be if he were here right now. The chief did not suffer fools lightly.

"No, we do not expect you to find him, we will do that. What we are asking is that campus security be put on full alert and all security officers be working every our this institution is open."

Dean Westerfield looked at Ed Brown with an incredulous expression on his face. "Do you have any idea, sergeant, what that would cost this institution?"

"Do you, sir, have any idea how many lives could be lost if security isn't put on full alert. Do you want me to tell Chief Ironside that you consider the money more important than people's lives?"

"Now just a minute, Sergeant. I didn't say that. All I am saying that it will be extremely expensive to have all of our security working at the same time."

"Hopefully you will not have to do it for long. The chief wants them in plain clothes. He will avoid taking his next victim if the campus security is in full uniform."

Westerfield sat forward in his chair. "That is insane! He will go after our female students if he doesn't see those uniforms."

"How would you expect us to catch him if he doesn't come around. By putting the campus police in plain clothes, he will try again. They will be there to stop him. We are also going to put police officers in plain clothes around the campus. We want to make sure that every remote area of the campus is covered. He is not going to walk into one of the classes and try to strangle a woman. He's going to do it in remote areas where there are no people, such as the parking lot while classes are in session."

"Why don't you just use the police? It is their job anyway."

Ed was doing his best not to lose his patience with the dean. "We do not have enough police officers for the city of San Francisco, and put them at the college as well."

"But you expect us to spend the money for all of the campus security to be on duty during all hours that classes are in session."

"In Westerfield, it was your school. We are trying to help stop this maniac. But if you refuse to cooperate, I will go back and tell Chief Ironside. The killings at your school are not going to quit until we stop this man. You can either cooperate or you can take the responsibility for women that are murdered. What do you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him to stop this maniac!"

Brown ignored him and asked, "Will you cooperate or not?"

"You're not giving me much choice, are you?"

"Quite frankly, no. The police officers who will be on duty here will be doing it on their own time. They will be working beyond their regular shifts. Please provide Ironside with a schedule." Ed stood up and headed for the door. Just before he left, he turned around and said, "We will be in touch."

*

The headaches were getting worse. The Night School Strangler could not stand the pressure in the back of his head. It was driving him crazy. He had already taken triple the recommended dosage of over-the-counter painkillers. They had not helped him at all. In fact, his headache had only gotten worse.

"When are you going to learn the headaches are not going to go away until you do what you are supposed to do? The women are causing your headaches. Punish one of them and your headache will go away. They have no business in a man's world. You already know that. Do something about it! Shall I remind you of what it was like?"

The Night School Strangler closed his eyes. He could no longer stand the pain. It was more than he could bear. A vision in his mind began to form. He and his mother were in the kitchen. His mother was yelling at him.

"You are both as useless as a person can be. I should have stayed on birth control. You're just like your father. Both of you are useless. "I should have known what he would produce."

She slammed the back of her hand into his face. He fell backwards into the wall. Sliding down the wall, he sat on the floor and cried.

"Stop that sniveling! If it weren't for you, I could have been at work earning money. Instead I have to stay here at home with you. First it was your father stopping me from working. He made me stay home. No woman should have to stay at home just to raise a kid, especially a useless one." She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to his feet and slapped him across the face. She shoved him up against the wall again, only this time he did not go down. That seemed to infuriate her, and she slugged him in the face with her fist. "I will not be confined to this house because of you. You can fix your own dinner, I am going out. I am going to go back to school and learn a trade. I am tired of the low paying jobs being the only thing I can get. Behave yourself or I will beat you when I get home."

After she left, he opened the refrigerator and looked in. There was one half gallon of milk and several bottles of beer. There was no other food in the refrigerator. He went over to the kitchen table and pulled a chair in front of the refrigerator. Reaching the freezer handle, he pulled the door open. It was stacked with TV dinners. He was so sick of TV dinners. His friends said they never ate them. Their mothers stayed home and cook their meals. In fact, not one of them had a mother that worked outside the home. None of his friends had mothers who had gone to school. Their mothers did not beat them. They were happy because they stayed home and took care of their families. They knew their place.

His father had always told him that a woman's place was in the home. It was her job to take care of the family and his job to bring home the bacon. He missed his father terribly. He had died of a heart attack while fighting with his mother over her constant nagging about going to school so that she could get a job. His father was adamantly against it. They fought about it all the time. Whenever they did, as soon as his father left the house, his mother would beat him.

Why did his mother not want to stay home like other mothers and take care of him? Why did she want to go out into a man's world, that's what his father called it? Since he had died, she had gotten one job after another, but she was never satisfied. Now she wanted to go back to school. But she did not belong at school, his father had said so on many occasions.

She had gone out again. He knew that when she came home, he would suffer another beating, and all because she would not stop trying to be part of a man's world. If only his mother would realize that she was a woman and learn her place in the world, she would be much happier. He would find a way to make sure that she never got to enter a man's world. She had to be put in her place. He would be the one to do it just as soon as he got bigenough to teach her her place.


	8. Chapter 8

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 8

Ironside studied the murders of Kimberly Gilmore, Melinda Mitchell, Donna Racey and Joanne Hart. Trying to understand a criminal mind was hard enough, let alone trying to understand one that was also sick. The common denominators were there. All of course, were women, students at the college, and all of them strangled with a wire. Whoever was killing these women was very clever. Ironside noted that not one individual had seen or heard anything unusual. No one saw the man.

Was the man a student as well? How was he picking his victims and why had he resorted to murdering them? Was he simply walking up behind them and strangling them, or did the victims know him, and as a result were being caught off guard? That would give the strangler an advantage as the women would not suspect him. Ironside hated serial killers. A crime of passion or one committed because of blackmail or robbery, he could understand. He did not like it, but at least the perpetrator was normally sane and responsible for their actions. They committed the crimes for a reason.

The sick serial killer quite often blamed a group of people for something that happened in his past. His twisted mind associated them as the wrong he perceived happened to him. He usually could not tell the difference. As a result, he would begin killing people who were the object of his obsession.

The chief looked over at Mark. He knew the young man was just chomping at the bit to get out there and find the killer. He fully intended to keep him close. As far as Mark had come over the years, he still had that stubborn streak and Ironside knew that if he did not keep him reined in, he would go off on his own, not really meaning to disobey him, but doing so nevertheless.

Mark began pacing the room. The chief glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as his aid was beginning to lose his patience with his insistence that they wait for Ed and Eve to report back.

"Mark, sit down. You are making me nervous," Ironside ordered.

Sanger walked over to the table and sat down beside his boss. "Chief, isn't there anything we can be doing besides sitting around here doing nothing?"

The detective looked up at him and waved a report in front of him. "I am doing something. Mark, if we want to catch this man, we have to understand why he is doing it, figure out what is common between the victims, and find something that gives us a clue into the mind of the killer. Then maybe we will be able to anticipate when and where his next victim is going to be. That is the only way we are going to stop him."

Ironside handed him a couple of the reports and said, "Start reading." Returning his attention back to the report he was studying, the veteran detective continued to watch Mark out of the corner of his eye. The man had a passion for bringing justice to the killer, which was good. The chief had to make sure he kept him focused on proper procedure.

Mark began reading the report on Donna Racey. She had been murdered during the day, the only one of them that had been. The others had been murdered at night. "Chief, why would he take a chance of killing Donna Racey in early evening. It was still light outside. All the other murders were done after dusk."

"All serial killers become bold. You will see that as he kills more people."

"Kills more people? Chief, we have to catch this maniac."

"And we will, Mark, but I warn you, there could be several more before we are able to gather enough evidence to find out who he is and where to find him."

Mark shook his head. "So why are we just sitting here. There must be something we can do besides read reports. I have read them all and I am sure you have read them several times."

Ironside looked at his inpatient aid. "And we will read them several more times before we finally catch this man. Mark, as nice as it would be to catch him immediately, it is unrealistic. As I have stated before, these types are always extremely clever. That is why they become serial killers. At first they are able to stay under our radar. After several killings, however, they are no longer able to do that. We have to get into the mind of this killer. There has to be a reason why he is doing it, well not necessarily a reason but something in his mind that justifies going after these women."

"You mean something in his childhood perhaps?" Mark suggested.

"Possibly, but he could just be a sick individual that cannot tell the difference between right and wrong. He may be someone that thrives on the power he holds over the women he is killing. You must understand the more we can learn about this man the faster we'll catch him."

The door to Ironside's office opened and Ed Brown came in. He walked swiftly down the ramp and joined Ironside and Mark at the table.

"Chief, I just got a report from the lab. The footprints in the woods at the college are the same as the ones that were found in the courtyard. There is no doubt that the same man did the killing," Ed told him.

Although, Ironside agreed with his conclusion, he had to point out the obvious to his sergeant. In order to make sure that they did consider all possibilities he said, "You mean those footprints could only be made by one man. After all the shoe company only made one pair of those boots, right?" As usual his voice contained sarcasm.

Sergeant Brown cringed at his boss's words. He knew better than to jump to conclusions, but he especially knew better than to do it in front of his chief. "No, of course all of their footwear contains the same symbol on the bottom. It is not conclusive, but it does point to the same individual doing the killings."

Ironside nodded. "I agree, but let's make sure we explore all possibilities."

Ed knew that was the exact lesson that Ironside was conveying to him.

"What else did you find out?" the chief asked him.

Before he could answer, the door to the office opened once again and Officer Eve Whitfield entered. She too came down the ramp and joined them at the main table. She held a piece of paper in her hand and set it down in front of the chief.

Ironside begin going over the list she had presented him.

*

The Night School Strangler parked his sports car at the back of the parking lot. Looking around the lot, he looked for any woman who might be alone. What he saw brought considerable alarm. A man in civilian clothes was at every side of the parking lot. Either the college had stepped up security or the police had forced them to do so.

The Night School Strangler had been going to this school for a couple of years now. He had probably seen every guard that had been on duty during the day and in the evening. These two were unfamiliar to him.

The sun was setting and he was prepared to remove another woman from the campus of the college. They didn't belong here and he was going to see to it that the college became woman free. How was he to do that well being watched? He gathered his backpack, slammed the car door shut and locked it with one press of the remote.

Headed for the building, he glanced over at the one night guard that pretended to just be passing by. Once he reached the building, he opened the door and stepped inside. Peering out the window, he watched as the guard returned to his previous position. These men had definitely been placed to watch the parking lot.

Maybe it was time to step up the game. Since the police insisted on being involved, he would allow them to know when he was going to take another victim. He was certain that out smarting the police would be no problem.

He walk down the halls and looked at each woman who passed him. Which one of them would he remove next? He would be unable to do it in the parking lot. It made no difference to him. He could take them right here in the building if he so chose. All he needed was an opportunity.

He stopped at the drinking fountain, bent down and pressed the button that would release the flow of water. He watched as one woman entered the ladies room at the end of the hall. The Night School Strangler waited until the hall cleared and hurried towards the womens' bathroom. He glanced both ways for witnesses. When he saw none, he opened the bathroom door and entered. The woman was in the middle stall. He would wait until she came out.

He thought that being in the womens' bathroom where anyone could enter at anytime would be nerve-racking. Instead, he felt an exhilaration that he had not felt before. Maybe it was the fear of being caught. Maybe it was because the college shouldn't need a woman's bathroom, or maybe it was time to take a few chances. Either way it didn't matter. He was here and he intended to make the most of it.

It was time to eliminate another woman from the college. If he could not do it in the parking lot, it made no difference to him if he had to do it in this bathroom. He wondered what was taking the woman so long. If another woman walked in, he would have to kill two of them. That might prove to be difficult since one of them would probably be screaming.

He looked around the bathroom. There was only one window and it was close to the ceiling. He reached over and pulled the waste basket to the window. Hoisting himself on top of the basket, he opened it. Having a second escape route was smart planning. Suppose the hall had students in it? Again, he did not want to take the chance of being recognized. He wanted to make a clean getaway. Otherwise, he could not eliminate more women from the school.

The voice in his head did not remain silent, even though he was doing as he was told.

 _"What are you waiting for? Kill her. Do it before someone comes in and interferes with it. She deserves to die. Don't you remember how you were treated by women? Your mother beat you continually. How many times have women rejected you when they didn't have the right to do so._

 _You must eliminate them and you must do it now. Don't you want the headaches to go away? They will not go away until you kill her._

The Night School Strangler grabbed his head with both hands. "Shut up! Just shut up! I am doing what you asked!"

The toilet in the stall flushed. The door opened. Carol Lester looked at the man holding his head in his hands. "What the hell? You're in the wrong bathroom, fella."

The Night School Strangler looked up, removing his hands from his head. He recognized her to be Carol Lester. "Oh sorry, Carol. I have such a headache, I just wanted to splash water on my face. I don't know how I am going to make it through the classes tonight."

Carol walked over to him. Putting her arm around his shoulder, she said, "Maybe you should go to the student lounge and lay down. You seem like you are in a lot of pain."

"I am," he replied, "but I can't miss any classes. I don't want to fall behind. I am not as smart as some of you. I have to really work at it." He smiled at her.

"Well, let me wet some paper towels for you. You can put them on your forehead. Maybe it will help ease the headache. I have some Tylenol if you think it would help." She turned her back on him to go to the sink.

He knew he had to move quickly before she got near the sink. She would be able to see his reflection in the mirror when he came up behind her. Pulling the wire out of his backpack, he moved quickly behind her and put the wire over her head. Dropping it to her neck, he began choking her with it. Carol Lester fought him. Using her long fingernails, she dug into his wrist, drawing blood. The Night School Strangler let out a yell as the pain and surprise hit him.

"You bitch! You will never do that to me again!" He tightened the wire around her neck.

There was pounding on the door. He glanced over at it in panic. He could not be discovered in here. "For God's sake, die you bitch!"

The pounding became louder. Someone tried the door handle. It was locked from the inside. He did not remember locking the door, but he was certainly glad he did. It would buy him some time.

Finally, Carol Lester went limp. He lowered her to the floor and checked her for a pulse. Good, she had none. She had finally died. He went over to the waste basket, climbed up on the cover and threw his back pack out the window. Pulling himself up to the window, he maneuvered his body out of the bathroom.

On the other side of the door, he could hear someone yell, "Someone get a janitor and get a key to this bathroom!"

The adrenaline was pounding. The Night School Strangler could feel the excitement. He had almost been caught, and surely would have if he had not locked the door. He had not even remembered doing it.

 _"I locked it for you, you fool! You could have been caught if it had not been for me._

 _Be more careful next time._

"I did what you told me to, now go away," he told the voice in his head. He scurried to the back of the building and entered, being careful not to be seen. When he came upon the door of his classroom, it was slightly ajar. What a stroke of luck! Slipping into the room, he made sure the instructor had not seen him. He quietly sat down in the last seat in the back of the room that was all by itself. The instructor asked a legal question. Fortunately, he knew the answer to the question and raised his hand. The professor called upon him to answer it. Perfect!

*

Ironside looked over the list of names that Eve had provided him. "Is this every male student that was at the school every time a murder was committed?"

"It is," Eve said. "They take attendance in every class. They are only allowed to miss so many, and then they are expelled from the class. The student office assured me that this was every male student that was on the campus every time."

Ironside looked down the list. There was a list of ten names. "Do we know anything about any of these men? Other than James Lander, of course. We know that he was the boyfriend of Melinda Mitchell.

Before Eve could answer him the phone rang. Ed Brown picked up the receiver and announced, "Chief Ironside's office." After listening for a moment, he said, "Just a moment, Carl. I'm going to put you on speaker."

"Yes, Carl. What is it?" Ironside called out.

"Chief, I just got a call. There has been another strangulation at the college," Carl told him.

Ironside looked up at his staff. "We are on our way!" He hit the button to terminate the call. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He turned his chair and wheeled toward the ramp. His staff ran to catch up with him.

They rode down the elevator to the police garage where Ironside's vehicle was parked. When the elevator stopped on the garage floor, Mark wheeled his boss over to the right side of the van. He hit the button that lowered the lift to the ground. Ironside backed onto it, and Mark once again hit the button as the lift raised the detective into the air.

Once Eve and Ed were in the vehicle, Mark started the engine and drove the vehicle out of the garage. Making a left hand turn, he headed in the direction of the college. All four of them were silent throughout the entire ride. When they arrived at the school, Mark found a handicap parking spot and pulled the van into it.

Before he even got out of the vehicle, Ironside was in the lift and lowering his wheelchair to the ground. Eve and Ed joined him on the right side of the van. Mark stepped behind his wheelchair and began pushing him towards the door.

The halls were full of students who had left their classrooms when they had heard what had happened.

One of the instructors saw the detective enter the building and shouted, "This way, Chief Ironside!" Though there were students standing everywhere, the police had them backed away from the womens' bathroom.

Ironside placed both hands on the door frame and pulled his chair inside. Eve and Ed followed him and Mark into the room. Both of the young detectives went directly to the body.

"Same MO," Ed said. "Strangled by a wire."

"Who found her?" Ironside asked the instructor that had led them to the murder room.

"One of the students was passing by the bathroom and heard a struggle. She tried the door but it was locked. She drew the attention of other students. One of them got a key from the janitor to get the door open. She discovered her on the floor just as you see her."

"I want to talk to this woman." Ironside demanded.

"I am right here, Chief Ironside," a young woman said as she stepped forward. "My name is Michelle Comer."

"Do you know this woman's name?" Ironside asked her.

"Yes sir, her name is Carol Lester, or was."

"Did anyone touch anything in this room?" Sergeant Brown asked.

"No, sir. We made sure everyone stayed out of the room," the instructor answered.

"Ed, is that fingernail polish on her nails," Ironside questioned, "or is it blood?"

Sergeant Brown bent down over the body and checked the fingernails of the deceased woman. "Definitely blood, Chief," his Sergeant told him.

"Put plastic bags on her hands and preserve any evidence," the chief ordered.

Officer Whitfield noticed the top of the wastebasket had an indentation in it. She looked up at the window which was opened.

"I don't understand," Mark said. "How did he get out of a room locked from the inside?"

Ironside had been watching his police woman. "I think Eve has the answer to that question."

"He definitely went out this window," Eve said. "The top of the wastebasket is bent inward. The window has been opened. It is big enough for a man to slip through."

"Ed, go outside and check the ground below that window. I want to know if there are footprints. If there is, you know what to do." Ironside nodded at his officer.

Brown left immediately to follow his boss's orders.

"Eve, I want every one of these students back in their classes. No one leaves. If anyone is missing from any class, I want to know who they are."

"Yes, sir." Eve immediately left. She met Officer Duffy outside the door and told him what the chief wanted.

Duffy nodded, enlisted the help of the other officers on duty and began the task of returning the students to their classes.

By the time Eve and Ed returned to the bathroom, both had the answers Ironside wanted.

"Chief, there were footprints below the window and…" Ed began.

"And they had the same imprint as the others that were found at previous murders," Ironside finished for him.

"Unfortunately, they were smeared in the mud," Brown told him. "We will not be able to confirm the prints were the same as the others."

"Damn it!" Ironside cursed.

"That is too bad. We could have checked the soles of every one of the men's shoes. Now we won't be able to do that," Eve pointed out.

"Yes we can. We can check all of them for the imprint we are looking for and for mud in case he changed his footwear," Ironside said. "Ed, I want more police officers here. I don't want anyone slipping away." Brown nodded and stepped outside to see that Duffy called in more officers.

Eve checked Carol Lester's body carefully. "She must have put up quite a fight, Chief. Her blouse is torn, and if you look at the wire around her neck, it changed positions a couple times. She has more than one ring of blood around her neck."

"The fact that she did just might have given us the killer's DNA with the blood under her fingernails," Ironside said.

Thirty minutes later, Ed Brown returned with Officer Duffy. "Sir, we have the officers here that you requested and all the students are back in their classrooms. The instructors are in the process of re-taking the roll call," Duffy reported.

"Then let's get started. Mark, you stay with me. Ed, you and Eve coordinate with Duffy. I want every classroom checked. If anyone is missing, take down their name. Check all men for the correct imprint, they will be muddy. Check shoes for mud just in case he is not wearing the boots. Mark and I will start in the next hall over. Eve, do you have that list of male students that were at night school every time a murder was committed?"

Eve Whitfield reached into her purse and produced the list. She handed it to Ironside.

"Write them down, gentlemen. I want these ten men scrutinized closely. Now get moving."

After copying the list, Ed, Eve and Duffy left immediately. The chief assigned a police officer to keep everyone out of the bathroom to preserve the evidence.

Robert Ironside was determined to find this killer. No one was leaving this school until he was finished with them.

He was completely unaware the Night School Strangler had decided to slip away to his car. He knew they would be looking for muddy boots. He opened his trunk, changed to tennis shoes and slipped back into the building just as the officers were herding the students back into the classrooms. He followed the students into the room and sat back down into the seat at the back of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 9

Ironside was determined if the killer was on the campus at the present time, he was not going to get away. Not one student on this campus was leaving until everyone was checked. He was getting bolder. Anyone could have walked into that bathroom at any time while he was murdering the latest female student. Ironside had no doubt that he would become bolder yet. These kind always did. They thought they were invulnerable. This killer was about to find out that there was no such thing as invulnerable.

The one thing that bothered him was the killer could have gotten away when he escaped through that bathroom window. However, they would know that shortly. If any male student had left the premises, he would quickly become their number one suspect. Unfortunately, this killer wasn't stupid. He probably not only did not leave the campus, but was sitting in one of the classes calm as a cucumber. He would know that leaving the campus would have brought attention to himself.

The one important fact that would come out of this investigation would be that they would be able to narrow down the suspects. Soon they would have the killer's DNA. If he had to, he would get a court order and get blood from every single male on the campus. No serial killer was going to last very long if Robert Ironside had anything to say about it.

"Chief, I would like to help," Mark said.

"You are staying with me. I told you that you would be doing all of your investigating with me," Ironside growled.

"What investigating? We are not doing anything but sitting here waiting on others to bring us information."

The chief looked up at his aide. He fully understood Mark's frustration. Still, he had no choice but to keep him under complete control. He would have no repeat of what happened last time. Mark would get a taste of what Ironside's job consisted of. Gone are the days when he could get right in there and handle everything. His disability had seen to that. That was the reason that he had surrounded himself with two of the best detectives in the department. Hell, they were the best detectives in the department. The only one that could rival them was Lieutenant Carl Reese and he used Reese often.

Mark would realize that Ironside's job was to coordinate the investigation. Of course, sometimes he did the questioning himself, but he had to depend on his detectives to do the legwork.

"Mister Ironside?" Dean William Westerfield approached the detective.

"Yes," Ironside responded.

"We have completed the roll-call, sir. Everyone that entered classes tonight is still here."

"No one is missing? No one left during the confusion?" Ironside asked.

"No sir, all students that showed up for class tonight are still in the classrooms."

"Thank you, Dean Westerfield." Ironside turned away from him indicating the conversation was over. Westerfield quickly left the detective and went about his business.

"That means we have a very clever killer," Mark said. "He stayed so as not to draw attention to himself."

Ironside almost smiled. Mark didn't know it yet, but someday he was going to make an excellent detective. Maybe being around him, Ed and Eve was rubbing off on him. "I was afraid that would be the case."

"But chief, doesn't that narrow down the suspects?" Mark wondered.

"It certainly does, but only if the killer is one of the students. If it is someone who is just coming on the campus and killing these women, then we have a city full of suspects."

"I think it is someone on the campus," Mark offered.

"Okay, Detective Sanger, tell me why you think it is a student."

"It is obvious that someone has a grudge against women. Couldn't it be possible that something happened in his past to make him hate women?" Mark inquired.

"It is very possible," Ironside responded. "But why choose female students on this campus?"

"Possibly because it is easy to find women on the campus at all times, especially when the killer is looking to kill at night."

"Okay, Mark, I buy that. What would you do from there?" He prompted his aide.

"I would start checking into the backgrounds of some of the men on the campus, you know the ones that have been here for every killing. Find out if any of them have been treated for mental problems."

"You do know that a lot of people with mental problems go undetected until they explode, don't you?" Ironside asked.

"Of course I know that. Isn't it worth a try?"

"All right, Mark. You wanted to help with this case, so check it out."

Finally Mark felt like Ironside was actually going to trust him to work on the case instead of babysitting him to make sure he did not repeat his past performance.

"Chief, I am going to need that list of students that have been here every time a murder has taken place."

"You can work on that with Eve. She put that list together. Since officer Whitfield is extremely efficient, I have no doubt that she has already started checking it."

Sergeant Brown and Officer Whitfield came down the hall towards Ironside. When they reached him and Mark, Ed was the first to speak. "Chief, as I am sure you already know all students that came to class were present in the second roll call.

"Unfortunately the imprint on the bottom of the shoes and boots that we are looking for is a very popular brand. So far we have found 37 male students with that brand of shoe or boot, none of which had mud on their footwear."

"Have all of the male students been questioned," Ironside demanded to know.

"We are in the process of doing that," Eve said. "Did you have any luck on the classrooms that you checked?"

Ironside shook his head. "I came up with the same results you did. How many more rooms do we have?"

Ed pointed down the hall behind Ironside. "Those are the only two rooms left that have not been checked. Between Eve and me and the uniformed police officers that we have here, we have covered the rest of the rooms."

Frustrated that they did not seem to be getting the results he wanted, Ironside snarled, "Well, let's check the rest of them." He turned his chair and wheeled it towards the remaining classrooms to check.

*

The Night School Strangler sat in his seat waiting for his classroom to be checked by the cops. He wanted to shout and tell everyone how he had outsmarted the police. Here they were checking all of the night school classes and he knew what for. They were looking for his particular brand of boots. He had to hold back a smile knowing they were in for a big surprise. Everyone wore this brand. They were not going to identify him through those boots, especially since he had changed into a pair of sneakers that he bought off the shelf at Walmart.

Somehow he was not surprised to see Chief Robert Ironside on the scene. Sooner or later he would show up. He had mixed feelings about Ironside investigating his work. He would not understand why he was doing it. After all, he obviously didn't believe that women did not belong in public. They belonged at home. His own mother could not seem to understand that, and apparently neither did Ironside.

In fact, he was breaking the rules by having a female on his staff. He would think someone of the authority of Robert Ironside would understand the importance of keeping women in their place. Otherwise, they turned out like his mother.

He had watched Ironside's police woman across the hall conducting interrogations of the male students in the school. He could not believe that she had the nerve to question any of them. Didn't she realize that every one of them were better than she was? He wondered if he would be able to hide his contempt for the woman if she was the one that ended up questioning him.

Oh, how he would like to teach her a lesson. Maybe then Ironside would replace her with a man as he should have in the first place. Maybe that was exactly what he should do.

He could hear the squeak of Ironside's wheelchair coming down the hall. That meant that they were ready to question the men in this room. How dare they target the men? None of the women in the room belonged here. Yet, they were going after the men. What a screwed-up value system the police had.

He watched as Chief Ironside wheeled into the room. He was followed by his aide, who he knew had discovered Kimberly Gilmore in the back of the detective's van. He wondered if he did that to draw Ironside into the game. Maybe subconsciously he had. It didn't matter as now the detective was here anyway. He supposed he would have showed up eventually as the commissioner always sent him in when no one else could solve a case. That was probably because they hired too many women. They had no business doing a man's job to begin with.

As the city's most feared cop wheeled into the room, all of the students turned to look. The Night School Strangler could see panic on some of their faces, but there was no panic on his face. This crippled cop did not intimidate him.

He watched as Ironside's detectives started spreading out among the students and began their investigation. Ironside himself started questioning a student right next to him. He figured when Ironside was done that he would be next.

The Night School Strangler watched in great anticipation as the student the detective was questioning seemed to be scared to death. The student raised his foot to show the man the bottom of his shoe. How the man could be considered so smart was beyond him. One only had to look at the footwear to know it was Dependable Footwear. They did not have to check the bottom of the shoe. He knew he had to have left an imprint on the ground in order for the police to be able to identify the company his boots were from. It did not matter as they would never catch him anyway.

Maybe it was time to branch out beyond the college. That way he could stay a step ahead of Ironside. After all, he could still eliminate women from the school; he would just do it off campus. He could not stop himself from chuckling. He could further confuse the police by changing to another brand of boots, but he would have to pick something distinctive, something that would hold Ironside's attention for a while.

He had been so lost in thought, that he did not hear the detective wheel up to him. "What is so amusing Mister… " Ironside said, waiting for the man to give his name.

The Night School Strangler had finally come face to face with the hero cop of San Francisco. He looked into his very blue eyes. The man had a way of making one feel that he could look right through you. He had heard that many times, but had never experienced it. Now, Ironside was staring at him. The Strangler looked away from him. He had not meant to, he just could not help it. Something about the blue glare of his eyes was disturbing. He forced himself to look back at the detective and told him his name.

"You are a law student?" Ironside asked.

"Yes, sir."

He decided the best tack to take with the bully cop was to be truthful. After all, he did not kill anybody. It had to be that voice that kept him believing that he did.

"Be polite and submissive." He will never expect someone he thought was a wimp."

He wanted to tell the voice to shut up, but with Ironside right in front of him he could not.

Ironside looked at the list Eve had given him. This man's name was on it. He had been at the school every time a murder had been committed. The young man was having trouble looking him in the eye. It did not faze the chief as he had known many a criminal that seemed submissive when being questioned, but were able to commit a host of crimes.

"What time did you arrive here?" Ironside asked him.

"About seven o'clock," he answered.

"And have you left this room since you entered?"

The Strangler looked the detective in the eye and said, "No. You can check with the professor. He will tell you I have been in here all evening, except when we all went out into the hall to see what the fuss was all about."

"I have already checked with your professor," Ironside informed him.

"Then why ask me a question you already know the answer to?" The Strangler acted indignant.

"Because I wanted to hear your answer, not the professor's."

The Strangler began to take a disliking to this cop. Besides having a woman on his staff that didn't belong there, he was trying to intimidate him into making a mistake. Well, that was not going to happen.

"Do you always sit in the back of the room?" Ironside asked him.

"I like the back of the room. That way I can see and hear everything that goes on in the classroom," the Strangler answered.

"You could easily slip out of the room unnoticed since you are the only one in the row."

"Well, I didn't," the Strangler snapped.

"Stop letting this cripple get to you. He is cracking your demeanor. Stay calm."

The voice was talking to him again.

Ironside continued questioning him. The Strangler got control of himself and turned back into the submissive individual he was supposed to convey. Ironside questioned him about his past, which of course, he lied about. He asked him where he was when the other murders were committed. The damn cop kept staring him in the eye. What the hell was wrong with the man? Did he really think his intimidation was going to work on him? He looked away from him again, but quickly looked back. He was not about to allow him to get to him again.

Finally after fifteen minutes, Ironside asked to see the bottom of his shoes. He had to force himself not to show any satisfaction when he lifted his foot and showed him what he wanted. No mud and no Dependable Footwear imprint. He prided himself in keeping clothes on hand to change into in case he needed to keep the police off his scent.

There was something about the young man that bothered the chief. He would have him checked out thoroughly. He acted submissive, but when challenged turned confrontational and smug, then back to being submissive. Ironside dismissed him. Before long, all the students had been allowed to leave the school. The chief sat in his wheelchair thinking about those he had interviewed and he kept coming back to the same student.

Ed, Eve and Mark returned to him. "Well?" he asked them.

"Nothing we can use as of yet," Sergeant Brown replied. The professor claims none of them left the room except when the entire class left to check out the commotion in the hall. By that time the murder had already been committed."

Eve and Mark reported the same thing. Ironside glanced over at the chair that the man had been sitting in. "Ed, what would you say about that chair all by itself?"

Ed stepped over to the chair and sat down. "This seat would be blocked from the professor's view."

"That is what bothers me," Ironside said.

Eve walked over to the door and then approached the chair. "He could have easily slipped into the room unnoticed."

"You are forgetting about roll call," Mark reminded them. The professor said he was in the room when he took it."

"The question is when did he take it?" Eve said.

"He wasn't sure," Ed said. He could not remember how much time went by after the students came into the room and when he took the roll call."

"So in other words, the cat may not have entered the room when the other students did. He could have slipped in after he murdered the girl," Mark said, thinking aloud.

"I want this man checked out. By tomorrow, I want to know his life's history," Ironside ordered, "but don't neglect the others on that list. There is nothing else we can do here, let's call it a night."

*

The Night School Strangler listened outside of the door. The hall had been cleared of cops and students. He had hung around to see if he could find out anything from Ironside and his people. He was upset with himself. The damn cripple had not been fooled by the act that the voice had wanted him to put on. He was now Ironside's number one suspect! How did that happened? He had planned everything so well. His plans were now in danger of being stopped before he accomplished what he had set out to do. He could not let that happen. Suddenly, he could not remember what his plans were. What was he supposed to be doing? The Strangler had to find a way to put Ironside off his trail. But why did he feel that way? Why would Ironside be on his trail?

Why was he thinking this way? He did not kill those women. He couldn't kill anybody. It was that voice that was convincing him he killed the women. But he couldn't have killed them. He was not a killer. He had to stop listening to the voice.

He left his place by the classroom and headed for the back door. There was less chance he would be seen by any of Ironside's lingering police officers. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in the back of his head. As he got out the door, he stood with his back to the building wall. Grabbing both sides of his head with his hands, he said, "No! Leave me alone! Go away! I killed her as you wanted me to, so leave me alone! I didn't kill them, you did it. I am not a killer. I did what you told me to do, now leave me alone!"

"You damn fool. Now you have Ironside on your tail. You stupid smug bastard!

You have to get rid of him. You can't allow him to check into your life."

"Don't you think I know that? I will find a way to get rid of him."

"How? So far all you have done is make a suspect of yourself. How are you going to convince Ironside you are not guilty?"

"I will find a way. Just don't ask me to kill anyone else," the Strangler said. His head was pounding. He didn't want to kill anybody. But he had to kill somebody. Women were breaking the rules. His mother was always beating him. His father told him that women belong in the house. His mother needed punishing. She was breaking the rules. There were so many that needed punishing. He did not want to kill them... or did he? They must be punished.

"Yes, they must be punished. You must remove another one from the campus. But do it outside of the campus. You must not be caught. There is much work to be done."

He covered his head with his hands. "Just shut up! Shut up! I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want to kill. I don't want to kill." Why wouldn't he shut up? Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

A female student walked up to him. "Are you alright?"

The Strangler dropped his hands from his head. The voice had stopped. He could no longer hear it. The headache was subsiding. He looked at the girl, he did not know her. He had to kill her, but he was not a killer.

The Strangler composed himself. He knew he had to get control. He looked at the woman and said, "I just have a terrible headache. I'll be all right. Thank you."

"Do you want me to see you to your car? I can help you if you need it."

"No, I am fine." he reached into his back pocket where the wire was hidden. Slowly he began to pull it from his pocket. He shook his head.

"Do it! There is no one around. You can punish her right under Ironside's nose. Do it! Punish her!

The Strangler had the wire almost pulled completely out of his pocket, but then he pushed it back out of sight. No, I don't care what you say. I will not kill her.

"Do it, you coward!

The headache that had been subsiding was quickly returning. He had to get out of there. He would not do it. He had to get out of there! "I am sorry, but I have to go." The Strangler pushed her aside and ran into the parking lot towards his vehicle.

Why didn't he do it? He had the time and nobody was around. He should have done it. It was the only way to get rid of the voice. But, the voice was gone. He could not hear it.

The Strangler got into his car, turn the ignition and squealed the tires as he left the parking lot.


	10. Chapter 10

The Night Strangler

Chapter 10

Ironside went over the report in front of him. How did the Stranger slip past them? How did he manage to keep from being discovered. He looked up and down the report. There had to be a clue somewhere that would give him some idea as to how the Strangler did it.

He kept coming back to the same individual. He was at the back of the room and could have slipped out unnoticed, but what were the chances that he could slip back in without anyone seeing him. Could he have possibly pulled it off?

The professor had told him the young man had not left the room. He had been adamant about it. No one had left his classroom or entered it in the time period the girl had been murdered. It seemed to give everyone in the room an alibi. It had been the same throughout the school. No one left or entered any of the classrooms, yet a woman had been murdered.

Ironside had sent Ed out to re-interview some of the male students. Something had to give them a clue as to who this maniac was. He looked over at Mark, who was in the kitchen fixing lunch. The detective glanced at his watch. It was after one o'clock. Mark normally had lunch ready at noon. He probably was waiting for Ed to return.

The office door opened and Commissioner Randall entered. He came down the ramp and walked over to the table that Ironside was sitting at. Pulling out a chair, Randall sat down heavily. Ironside waited for him to say something, but lost patience quickly.

"What is it, Dennis?"

"I have been on the phone all morning with members of the city council."

Ironside ran his hand down his face. "I have nothing further to report at this time. You know everything that I do."

Randall remained quiet for a moment before saying, "Bob, how do you think he got away?"

"He didn't. He was there. He was just damn clever. He got in and out of one of those classrooms without being noticed, or he killed her and slipped into the room under the entire classroom's collective noses, including the instructor's. Dennis, I am convinced that he was there and was clever enough not to panic. That is what makes him so dangerous. He is cool as a cucumber."

"My God! So how are you going to catch him?" Randall demanded.

"The same way I catch any other crook. He's going to make a mistake. We know that he was on that campus. We also know, or can be pretty sure that it is a man doing the killing. We are going to check out every man that was on that campus for every killing. If we don't come up with a killer in that group, we will expand to the rest of them. However, I have no doubt that the killer is in that group of male students that were on that campus for each and every killing."

Commissioner Randall nodded and stood up. He started for the ramp to leave the office and said over his shoulder, "Keep me informed, Bob. That means calling me on the telephone once in awhile." There was a bit of sarcasm in his voice as he left the office.

*

"You coward! You had her right there and you could have removed another woman from the campus. No, you had to let her get away. You did not do your job! You let her get away! Now you will be punished! How's the headache, coward?"

The Night School Strangler sat at the desk in his room. He put his head down and covered it with his hands. The headache was pounding. He could barely stand it. Why was he being punished for not killing? He didn't want to kill. But those women had to be removed, didn't they? He had to kill them. They did not belong at school. His father told him that women belonged in the home, not out in society. These women did not know their place. They were breaking the rules. They had to be removed.

"Now you are getting it. You are right, they have to be removed. The only way you can remove them is to kill them. You must kill them. You must find the woman that you let get away and you must remove her from the campus. Then your headache will subside. It will go away. But you must do your job!"

"Why don't you just leave me alone?!" he screamed. "I don't want to kill them. They have done nothing to me. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because you must do your job. You will find that woman and you will remove her from the campus or you will continue to suffer. If you want the headaches to go away then do your job."

The pain pounded inside his head. He could barely stand it. Why couldn't the voice just leave him alone. But the voice was right! He had to remove the women from the campus. They did not belong there. They had to be removed. He stood up and looked at the clock. He would go to the campus tonight. She must be found. There was no other choice. He had to remove her. Then the headache would stop.

The Strangler went over to his bed and laid down, closing his eyes and willing the headache to go away.

*

Sergeant Ed Brown entered Ironside's office and came down the ramp. He walked over to the table where the chief was sitting, going over paperwork. He sat down beside him without saying a word.

The chief studied his sergeant and already knew what he had found out. "You struck out, didn't you?"

"I struck out," Brown confirmed. "Chief, I talked to, oh I don't know how many, but I talk to a lot of students, both male and female. It is unbelievable that nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything, and nobody knows anything."

"It's all right, Ed. I didn't expect you to find anything," Ironside told him.

Mark walked over and set a cup of coffee in front of the sergeant. "Thanks, Mark," Ed said to him. He turned to his boss. "If you didn't expect me to find anything, why did you send me over there to question all those students?"

Ironside turned his chair slightly so that he could see his police woman. He looked at her and said, "Would you like to enlighten Sergeant Brown?"

Eve picked up her cup of coffee and joined her colleagues at the table. "Because we cannot leave any stone unturned. Even if we expected to find nothing, we had to check."

The chief then turned his chair back and gave Ed that look as if to say, do you understand now?

"All right, all right," Brown conceited. "Where do we go from here?"

"You are a sergeant of detectives, what would you do?" Ironside asked him sarcastically.

"Start checking out the male students who were on campus for all of the killings."

"So if you knew, why did you ask me?" Ironside inquired, looking directly at Ed.

Brown shook his head. He had been on his feet all day and was tired. Usually, he could take his boss's sarcasm, but today he was in no mood for it. Still, he would not say anything. He knew the chief got sarcastic when he was frustrated. All of them were frustrated. They were dealing with an extremely clever killer, and it was not going to be easy to catch him.

"Eve, where is that list of students that were all on campus when the killings took place?" Ed asked.

Officer Whitfield stood up and went back to the desk. She picked up a paper and return to the table. Handing it to Ed, she sat back down.

Mark stepped into the room next to the office and wheeled a blackboard to the table. He sat down in a chair next to Ironside.

"Eve, since your handwriting is far better than Ed's, would you please put those names on the chalkboard down the right side," Ironside ordered his police woman.

Whitfield took the list from Ed and stood up. She walked over to the chalkboard and began writing the names.

Adam Wright

Andrew Bloedon

Evan Leonard

James Lander

Wyatt Smith

Greg Steward

Jerry Downing

Jody Mancilla

Ivan Bernard

Kevin Hearn

All of them studied the list for a moment before Ironside spoke up. "Do we know yet if any of those men have been treated for mental problems?"

"Not yet, Chief," Eve answered.

"All right then. We will divide the list up. Ed, you take the first three. Mark and I will take the second three, and Eve will take the next three. The last one will be taken by whoever finishes their three first. Let's get moving."

Everyone headed out the door.

*

Sergeant Ed Brown stepped out of his vehicle and headed into the dorm where Adam Wright lived. As he passed many students, he could not help but look at every male wondering if they were the Night School Strangler.

He entered the dorm and headed for room 102. Brown knocked on the door and waited. It opened almost immediately and a young blonde man with bright blue eyes stood on the other side.

"Who are you?" he rudely asked.

Ed pulled out his detective badge, flashed it in front of the young man and said, "Sergeant Brown, San Francisco police. Are you Adam Wright?"

He grinned. "Hell no, hang on."

Brown waited as the young man walked over to what had to be the bathroom, and slammed his fist on the door.

"Adam, you got company," he shouted.

The door opened and another young man came out of the bathroom toweling his wet hair. "It better be a beautiful woman and not you trying to get me out of the bathroom."

His roommate grinned at him and said, "I am not trying to get you out of the bathroom and it definitely is not a beautiful woman." He pointed over at Sergeant Brown.

"Just who the hell are you?" he said just as rudely as his roommate had.

Brown wondered if any of the kids these days were taught any manners by their parents. Once again he pulled out his police badge and showed it to Adam Wright. Sergeant Brown, San Francisco police. I need to talk to you."

"What for? I haven't done anything. You have no right harassing me. I don't have to talk to you."

"You can talk to me now, or you can talk to Chief Ironside as soon as I get the warrant to drag you in. It's up to you. It would be a lot easier if you just talk to me right now, but either way, it makes no difference to me." Ed's eyes bore into the young man.

"Ironside? I thought he was done after he found nothing on the campus. You pigs are useless. You can't keep this maniac from killing women and you are harassing innocent guys."

"If innocent guys like you would cooperate, we might be able to catch this maniac. Now what will it be? Do I go get the warrant or do you talk to me now?" Ed was not about to put up with his "Pig" routine. He had heard it dozens of times over.

Adam quit drying his hair and sat down in a chair. "What do you want to know?"

"You were on the campus every time a murder was committed," Ed began before he was interrupted by Adam Wright.

"You aren't hanging this one on me, pig, just because you guys are incompetent and can't find the maniac killing these women. I was in class when every one of those killings took place, and you can check the attendance records. They will back me up. They give me, what is it you guys call it? An alibi. So go harass someone else and quit blaming me for something I didn't do."

"I am not accusing you of anything, I simply stated that you were on the campus each time a killing was done. Did you see or hear anything that was out of the ordinary. Could someone you possibly know have an obsession with women?"

The kid grinned. "Every guy on this campus has an obsession with women."

Ed ignored his remark and said, "I am talking about someone who might have a hatred for women and is using that for an excuse to kill."

"No, what you want is for me to finger one of my friends. I'm not going to do that. You are the cop, you find this maniac, that is of course if you're even capable of it."

Ed pulled out an envelope from his suit coat pocket. He opened it and removed a paper. He handed it to Adam Wright. The young man looked it over. He shook his head. "You really are trying to hang this on me, aren't you? So I saw a counselor when I was a kid, so what. I have lousy parents. I mouthed off to them a few times and walked out of the house. So what if I didn't have their permission. As far as I'm concerned, I didn't need it."

"You were under the age of eighteen. Like it or not, legally you needed their permission. That is why you were seeing counseling and ended up in juvenile detention."

Adam stood up and walked over to Ed. Although he was at least three inches shorter than the detective, he stepped right into his face. "I don't care what the law says. I was not putting up with their ridiculous, unreasonable rules."

Brown remembered another passage in the report. "This says that you beat up your girlfriend and put her in the hospital."

"She was cheating on me. No one cheats on me."

Ed looked him straight in the eye. He handed Adam a copy of the names of the girls that had been murdered. "Did you ever date any of those girls?"

A smirk appeared on Wright's face. "You really are something, Brown. Kimberly, Melinda and Donna were all stuck up bitches. Not one of them would interest me. I didn't know the others. Now I have talked to you all I'm going to. Get out of our room, Pig or I'll... !"

"Or you will what? Call the police?" Brown questioned.

"Just get out, cop."

"Don't leave town, Mister Wright. We may have more questions for you." Sergeant Brown turned and left the room. As far as he was concerned, Adam Wright deserved closer scrutiny.

Getting in his car, he turn the ignition and drove away.

*

Mark pulled the chief's van in front of James Lander's dorm. Ironside got into the lift and lowered himself to the ground. He noticed he had drawn curiosity among the men going in and out of the dorm. They all glanced in his direction.

Mark step behind his wheelchair and wheeled the detective over to the entrance into the dorm. Students continue to stare at the wheelchair-bound detective. Everyone knew who he was and why he was there, but they did not know who was the subject of his scrutiny.

He continued to wheel down the hall until he located the room he was looking for. The door was open and there were several young men in the room drinking beer. Some of them attempted to hide the alcoholic beverages when they saw Ironside in front of the door. He knew that meant they were not old enough to be drinking. He didn't have time to worry about underage drinking at the moment. Ironside had more important things to check into.

"Which one of you is James Lander?" the gruff detective demanded.

Mark immediately recognized the young man that spoke up.

"I am," he said.

"The rest of you leave the room," Ironside ordered. Not one of the men gave him any argument, they left Lander's room immediately, leaving the alcohol behind.

"I thought we weren't going to involve Chief Ironside," James Lander said, looking at Mark.

Ironside immediately glanced at his aid. It became apparent that Mark had indeed been working on the Strangler case behind his back. It only proved to reinforce his decision to have Mark work directly with him.

"Chief Ironside wants to ask you some questions."

"All right, go ahead," Lander said.

"The night that Melinda Mitchell was murdered, you were the last one to see her alive," Ironside said, more as a statement than a question.

"That is right. I spoke to her before we went to class. I went inside and she remained outside."

"Any particular reason why she did not go in with you?" the chief asked him.

"Not that I know of. I just told her I'd see her after class and headed inside. My class started before hers did. She came early so that we could see each other." Lander explained.

"How long had you been seeing each other?" Ironside inquired.

"Since the school year started. She broke up with her last boyfriend just before we started classes for the semester."

"Did you notice anybody around before you went inside?" Ironside could not help but notice the young man was extremely nervous. He wondered how he could possibly be the Strangler. The Strangler had been so cool and calm. The detective found it hard to believe that the murderer would react this way. Then again, if he were the Strangler, this would be the exact kind of behavior he would exhibit to put off an investigation into himself. He would believe that Ironside would not consider him a suspect if he were not cool and calm. He did not know the detective very well as he suspected everyone until he was able to eliminate them.

"There are always students coming and going. Classes were starting, yes there were people around."

"Anybody in particular that you noticed?" Ironside asked him.

Lander thought for a moment and then answered, "Well, let's see, yes there were several guys that I recognized. Wyatt Smith, her ex-boyfriend was coming from the back of the parking lot. He was about halfway when I went into the building. Then there was Greg Steward, Joey Masilla, but they went into the building before I did."

"What about Smith?" Mark inquired. "Are you sure he was halfway across the parking lot?"

"I think so, but I am not sure to be honest."

"So as far as you know, there was no one around when you went into the building, is that right?" Ironside demanded.

"Look, I just don't know. I wasn't paying that close attention. I had no reason to believe there was anything wrong."

"Exactly what time is your class?" Ironside continued to question James Lander.

"It is at seven o'clock. I went into class about five minutes before it started," Lander offered.

"In other words, you would have had time to strangle her before you went into class?" Ironside suggested.

Lander's expression changed immediately. He did not like this man. Nor did he trust Mark Sanger any longer. He had brought Ironside to question him, and they were supposed to check on this on their own. He wasn't answering anymore questions. It was obvious that the police did not know who strangled these women and they were trying to hang the murders on him. Well he wasn't having any part of it. Ironside could find out who did it on his own without any more help from him.

"I could have, but I didn't. I loved her. I was going to ask her to marry me. Quite frankly, Chief Ironside, I don't care whether you believe me or not. There is a little thing called evidence that you must have before you arrest someone for a crime, and you don't have any evidence of me killing Melinda. This conversation is at an end. Go find someone else to hang these murders on. You're not going to hang them on me. You have no evidence."

"Take it easy, Jim" Mark said. "He has to consider all possibilities. That is just smart police procedure."

"I don't care what you call it. I'm finished talking to both of you. I suggest you leave. Don't come back unless you have the evidence to arrest me. I am completely done with both of you. Now get out!"

Market tempted to say something else, but Ironside put up his hand to silence him. "Let's go, Mark."

Sanger took one last look at James Lander, then step behind Ironside's wheelchair and wheeled him out of the room. When they were outside, Mark questioned the detective's methods. "Why did you do that? He was cooperating. I don't think he had anything to do with Melinda's murder. He was going to help me find out who did it. You can't possibly consider him to be a suspect."

"Mark, you have a lot to learn about police work. Everyone is a suspect until they are cleared by the evidence," Ironside told him. "I don't like the way he behaved. He was defensive."

"Of course he was defensive! You literally accused him of killing Melinda. How could you not expect him to be defensive?"

"I did not accuse him of killing anyone. I simply suggested he had the time to do it. And as far as being a suspect, he just became number one. So far, no one else had the opportunity that he had. I checked and he would have been on the premises when Kimberly Gilmore was murdered and placed in the back of my van."

"So were nine other guys," Mark argued.

"But Lander's class was later than all of the rest of them. He could easily have murdered her and then slipped into class."

"He didn't do it, Chief," Mark insisted.

"And what do you base that on, Detective Sanger?" Ironside asked with sarcasm in his voice.

"The same thing that you use all the time," Mark said, "gut instinct."

Ironside almost smiled. He could not argue that as he knew Mark was right. What was it in Mark's gut feeling that made him think that Lander was not the killer. He certainly had opportunity and possibly motive if Melinda refused to marry him. They definitely had to check into his background further. Ironside had a bad feeling about him.


	11. Chapter 11

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 11

Mark pulled the van into the garage parking lot at police headquarters. Ironside got onto the lift and pressed the button. As his chair was lowered to the cement, Lieutenant Carl Reese came over to meet them.

"Hi Chief, any luck with James Lander?" Carl asked.

"We are going to check into him further. Obviously, you have something or you would not be meeting us here in the parking garage."

"Well, I do have something. I just got the report that the blood under Carol Lester's fingernails was type O."

"It is about time. It certainly took them long enough to provide that little detail," Ironside grumbled.

"That should help narrow down the suspects," Mark said.

"It means we have some work to do. We need to get the medical records of all ten of those students. We can eliminate the ones that are not type O."

"I can check it out for you, Chief," Carl offered.

"All right, Carl, go ahead and do it. Report back to me as soon as you can. The sooner we can eliminate some of these men, the better."

Reese nodded, turned and walked away.

"Let's go, Mark. Wyatt Smith should be upstairs waiting for us."

Sanger stepped behind Ironside's wheelchair and began wheeling him toward the elevator that would take them to his office-residence on the top floor. Once inside, Mark pressed the button for the chief's floor and they rode the elevator upward.

When the doors opened, Ironside wheeled himself out and towards his office door. Mark helped him up the ramp and then let go. Opening the door, he stepped back so his boss could enter the office.

Sitting at the table, was a young man with dark hair. As Ironside approached the table, he could see a small scar on the right side of the man's chin.

Wyatt Smith stood up and introduced himself. "I was told you wanted to see me, Chief Ironside."

"That's right. Sit down, Mister Smith," the gruff detective ordered him.

Smith did as he was told. Mark went into the kitchen, poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table. He set one down in front of his boss and the other in front of Wyatt Smith. There was already cream and sugar on the table.

Smith looked down at the coffee. "No thanks, I never drink that stuff."

"You were at the college every time a murder was committed, Mister Smith," Ironside said, looking at him. He sat staring at him waiting for him to respond.

"You think I did it, Chief Ironside? Simply because I was at the college every time a murder was committed. I am betting there were several other guys that were there as well. So, sir, I am willing to answer anything you might ask to clear this up. Go ahead ask your questions. I will try to clear up any suspicions you may have of me."

Ironside studied the man for a moment. He gave off an aura of being sincere. Time would tell if it was an act or whether he was actually trying to help. "You dated Melinda Mitchell."

"Yes, that is correct. We dated for some time, but it didn't work out; we split up."

"What caused the breakup?" Ironside asked.

Smith shrugged. "I guess she got tired of me. She felt I was too possessive, I guess."

"Were you?"

"I didn't think so. I loved her, I wanted to make sure she stayed safe. I checked on her to be sure she was okay. She resented that. I really don't understand why. With everything that goes on in this world, why wouldn't she want to be looked after?"

"How often did you check on her?" Ironside took a sip of his coffee. His steely blue eyes bore into Wyatt Smith's eyes.

"Every day. I didn't think that was being overly protective. Anyway, she didn't like it, so I started following her to make sure she stayed safe."

"You stalked her?" Mark said.

"I didn't consider it stalking, Mister Sanger. I just wanted to be sure she was safe."

"Did you have reason to believe she would not be?" Ironside asked.

"Mister Ironside, I am of the old school. I'm a guy who feels women should be protected. They are easy prey for men, you know rapist, maniacs and killers. The fact that there is a maniac running around killing women at the college proves it.

"I guess maybe I may have gone overboard. If I could do it over again, I would try to give her more space. We argued about me watching her all the time. She broke up with me. She started to see James Lander."

"Were you angry about that?" Ironside inquired.

"I wasn't happy about it, if that is what you mean, but her life is her own. I didn't have anything to say about it. If you think it made me angry enough to kill her, you are wrong. I loved her, I still love her. I would not hurt her."

"I talked to you at the college. Why didn't you tell me then that you had dated Melinda Mitchell?"

"Chief Ironside, put yourself in my place. I dated a woman who is later murdered by some maniac, and the most famous detective in the world starts questioning students, looking for the killer. I was afraid I would become your number one suspect. Look, I am having trouble with the school work. I want to be a lawyer. I just don't know if I am going to make it. The last thing I need on my mind is that the police think I am a killer. I am sorry, I should have told you."

"Did you ever seek psychological help?"

"What? Of course not. I'm no different than the other guys on the campus."

"Really?" Mark said, raising an eyebrow. "One of those guys is a serial killer."

Wyatt Smith was beginning to lose his composure a little. He looked over at Mark. "Look, I think I have been more than cooperative. I will continue to cooperate, but I did not kill any of those women. I was in class. I certainly didn't kill Melinda. I cared a great deal about her. Why don't you check with that boyfriend of hers? As far as I'm concerned, he's crazy enough to do it."

He had Ironside's undivided attention. "What makes you say that?"

"You asked about seeking psychological treatment, right?"

"That's right."

"You need to do some further checking into James Lander. I know for a fact that he had a nervous breakdown when he was in high school. He didn't get along with his parents. His mother was a tyrant and his father was just playing crazy. I know, I have checked into his background. I never liked the thought of Melinda with him, but there was nothing I could do about it. You see, Chief, if I were going to kill somebody, it would not have been Melinda. It would have been James Lander, and he is still alive. You should check into him. You are wasting your time with me. I would not have harmed her. So if you're talking about a serial killer, that kind of lets me out."

"Okay, Mister Smith, you can go. Just do not leave town. We may have more questions for you." Ironside turned his chair away from Wyatt Smith. "And, we will be asking for a blood sample."

"A blood sample? What for?" Wyatt questioned.

"The killer left his blood under the fingernails of one of the victims. We have a confirmation on the blood type."

"If it will clear me, you can take my blood right now. But just to show you that I am more than willing to be cooperative, I can tell you right now that my blood is type O."

"We will be in touch, Mister Smith."

Mark walked him over to the door, opened it and watched as Smith left the office. Coming back down the ramp, he went over and sat down by his boss. "So what do you think?"

"He doesn't seem like the type. However, we're going to check him out anyway. Chances are, nothing will come of it. Like Eve said, we cannot leave any stone unturned. I did find it interesting what he said about James Lander. We are also going to be checking into that."

"Come on, Chief. He was going to try to help me find the killer. I don't believe that he had anything to do with these killings." Mark stood up in looked down at his boss in the wheelchair. "He really loved her. I am sure of that."

"Mark, you have been around us long enough to know that many men have murdered women they loved. Haven't you ever heard of the phrase, there is a fine line between love and hate? What if he is the Killer? What if we ignore him and don't check any further into him? We would be doing the women at that school an injustice. He would go on killing and we would be looking at the wrong people. Is that what you want me to do?"

"No, it's not. I just feel very strongly that he is not the killer, that's all. And this kid has the correct blood type. We don't know what blood type James Lander has."

"You may well be right, but we are going to check him out thoroughly anyway along with Smith and the others. Fair enough?"

Mark had to admit the chief was always thorough. He nodded in agreement. "Fair enough."

"Good, now who is next on our list?"

Mark pulled out the sheet of paper from his pocket. "The kid's name is Greg Stewart."

"Do we have an address?" Ironside asked him.

"Yes. He lives in one of the dorms on the campus. He should be easy to find."

"We are not going to find out anything sitting around here. Let's get moving." Ironside turned his chair around towards the ramp and begin wheeling. Sanger stepped in behind him and pushed his chair up the ramp. The two men left for their next assignment.

*

Officer Eve Whitfield turned off the motor on her vehicle and got out of the car. She walked up the sidewalk toward the home of Jerry Downing. Riding towards her on a tricycle, a little girl no more than four or five years old was peddling as fast as she could towards her. Apparently she was not watching where she was going as Eve had to put out her hand to stop the forward motion of the tricycle.

The little girl looked up at her with a weary expression. "Who are you?"

Eve smiled at the child and answered, "I'm a police officer. Can you tell me your name?"

"Daddy says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she responded.

Eve pulled her detective's badge out of her purse and showed it to the little girl. "You can talk to me, I am a police officer." She could tell that the little girl was not convinced.

"If you are a police officer, then where is your uniform? Daddy says police officers wear uniforms."

"I am a police detective. We don't wear uniforms."

"I thought all police officers wore uniforms. How are you supposed to know if they really are police officers if they don't wear a uniform?"

Before Eve could answer her, the front door opened and a young man stepped out. He was wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans and was barefooted. "Is there something I can do for you, Miss?"

Eve again pulled out her detective's badge and showed it to the man. "I'm officer Eve Whitfield. I work for Chief Robert Ironside. "Are you Jerry Downing?"

"I am. I suppose you want to question me about the murders that are going on at the college. I heard Ironside was questioning all of the men that were in classes for every murder. I suppose that would include me."

He looked down at his daughter and said, "Sweetie, I want you to go inside."

"But, Daddy, I want to stay here with you," the child protested.

"Inside and now." Downing's voice was stern but gentle. Giving her father no further argument, she went inside and shut the door. Once they were alone, he turn to Eve Whitfield and said, "What do you want to know, Officer?"

"You were on campus when each one of the murders took place, where you not?" Eve asked him.

The man did not become defensive. "Yes, ma'am, I was, but I had nothing to do with any of those killings. My wife died two years ago and I am simply trying to make a better life for myself and for my daughter. You can check my record if you would like. I have never been arrested and never even had as much as a parking ticket. I went back to school to try to learn a profession where I can make a decent living. We all know that lawyers make good money. School was never difficult for me. I always got straight A's. So I decided to go back to school and study the law."

"Did you see or hear anything that might help us?" Officer Whitfield had done a little checking into this man's background. She found absolutely nothing that would lead her to believe that he could possibly be a cold-blooded killer. She believed him to be exactly what he said he was, a man trying to make a better life for himself and his daughter. His wife had died in a car accident in which the other car was driven by a drunk driver. Apparently his home life as a child had been completely normal. He had met his childhood sweetheart in high school and they were married shortly after they graduated.

"I really wish I could say that I had seen or heard something, but the truth is I did not. As you can tell, I am a bit older than most of the students going to that school right now. I really do not have anything in common with these kids. Therefore, I have not associated with anyone at the school. I simply have been going to classes and returning home, No stops in between. I certainly do hope that you catch this maniac soon."

Eve had already done enough checking on this man to satisfy herself. After having spoken with him, she did not see him as a suspect. There was absolutely nothing in his background that indicated that he would snap in this manner. She thanked him for his time, turned around and returned to her vehicle. Eve got in and drove to her next destination.

The policewoman drove her car to a local gas station. She parked it off to the side and went into the main office. A girl behind the desk looked up and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I am looking for Jody Mansilla."

"He's on a break. You'll find him in the break room. When you leave this room turn to your right, it's the last room on the left."

Eve thanked him and followed her directions. When she arrived at the break room, she opened the door and entered. From the information she had on Jody Mansilla, she walked directly over to him. "Mister Mansilla?"

His eyes went up and down the police woman and he grinned. "This must be my lucky day to have such a beautiful woman looking for me. How would you like to have dinner tonight?" He stood up and got directly into Eve's face.

Although she did not like his behavior, she would not back away from him. She wanted to make sure that he understood that she was not intimidated by his behavior. She reached into her purse and pulled out her detective's badge. "San Francisco police. I would like to speak with you for a moment. Is there someplace we could go where it would be a little more private?"

His attitude changed immediately. "Why would such a beautiful woman want to join the pig Department?"

"Mister Mansilla, I am an extremely busy woman. I have heard it all, so you can quit with the pig routine."

"Where's your warrant, lady Pig?"

"I don't have one, but I can have one here within five minutes. You will either talk to me now or you will talk to me at the station. Make up your mind, Mister Mansilla, I don't have time to waste."

"Just like a pig cop, you think you can push everybody around. I don't have time for you either. You came into my place of business. You want to talk to me, get that warrant."

She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. "I'll have that warrant here in five minutes."

"That will not be necessary, Officer Whitfield," a voice from behind them said. Barry Martinez smiled at Officer Whitfield as she turned around. "How's the chief doing these days?"

"He's fine, Mister Martinez," Eve answered.

"Good, tell him it is about time that we arrange another poker game. I need to win back some of the money he has taken from me."

Eve smiled. Chief Ironside was an exceptionally good poker player. With the poker face that he displayed on a daily basis, it made it very difficult for other players to read him. Along with that and his ability to bluff in any given circumstance, he was extremely difficult to beat. "I will be sure and tell him that. It is better that you lose your money than Ed, Mark and I lose ours."

Martinez chuckled. "Well then, how about I play the three of you instead?"

Jody Mansilla got up and prepared to leave the room. As he reached the door, his boss called out, "Just a minute, Jody. I believe this officer would like to speak with you."

"I'm not talking to a cop," Mansilla snarled.

"Jody, Chief Ironside was responsible for keeping this gas station from being burned down. Anyone who works here will cooperate with him or they will not be working here very long."

Jody would have liked nothing more than to tell Martinez what he could do with his job. However, he needed the money. He had gotten some scholarships to go to law school, but they were not enough to pay for it in its entirety. He needed this job because Martinez at least worked with him on the hours that he needed to be at school. So he had no choice but to do as his boss asked.

Turning around, he walked back over to the table and sat down. Being careful not to call officer Whitfield a pig in front of his boss, he said, "What do you want to know, Officer?"

"I will leave the two of you alone. Jody, I expect you to be respectful to Officer Whitfield." He turned around and left the break room.

"Let's get this over with," he growled at Eve.

"Mister Mansilla, our records show that you were on the campus each time one of the murders was committed."

"Yeah, so what? I had nothing to do with the killings and you can't prove that I did."

"That remains to be seen," Eve responded. "If you have nothing to hide, then there is no reason for you not to cooperate."

"Like I said, let's get this over with."

She pulled a report out of her purse. "According to this you have been arrested three times for assaulting women."

"So you think because I beat up three women that I killed those women on the campus, is that it?"

"You seem to have an animosity towards women, Mister Mansilla."

"Well, officer Pig. I had animosity towards those three women. They deserved what they got."

"And why is that? I read, they simply got positions that you were attempting to obtain."

"They were mens' jobs. Women think they should be able to move into any position that they want. Some jobs were just meant for men to do. You don't see men going into a bank and applying for teller jobs. That's a woman's job."

"Why is that, Mister Mansilla? Could it be because the jobs are so poorly paying that men won't take them?"

He looked at Eve with disgust. "It's simply because being a teller is a woman's job. I was going for executive positions. No woman belongs in executive positions. I can only think of one position that women belong in, quite frankly." He looked Eve up and down.

She ignored his lewd remark. "You have a seat at the back of the room in every single class that you are in. You could have slipped in and out of any one of those classrooms and murdered those girls."

Mansilla grabbed Eve and slammed her up against the wall. "Don't think that just because Martinez told me to treat you with respect that I am going to do it. You are a perfect example. You are in a position that you can't handle and don't belong in. Why, I could kill you right here and now and you could not do anything about it."

He did not realize that Eve had reached into her purse and pulled out her service revolver. She placed it against his temple and said, "Don't be too sure, Mister Mansilla. I would suggest that you let go of me immediately."

Jody Mansilla lifted his hands with his palms toward her and nodded. "This conversation is at an end. I am not answering any more of your questions. The next time you come around, you better have a warrant."

He took a step back, but Eve did not lower her weapon. Put both of your hands on the wall," she said. "you are under arrest for assaulting a police officer."

"Why don't you try and make me."

"You can add resisting arrest to the charges," Ed Brown said behind them. He too had drawn his service revolver.

"This is nothing but harassment. I did not assault her!"

"A court of law will look at it differently," Ed said. "You are not allowed to slam police officers up against the wall. Now I would suggest that you do exactly as Officer Whitfield has told you to do."

With two cops with guns pointed directly at him, Jody Mansilla had no choice but to do what he was told. It didn't matter as he had a very good lawyer and he would be back on the streets within a matter of a couple hours. They weren't going to stop him. He was going to become a defense attorney and keep other people from being harassed by pig cops. He placed his hands on the wall as Sergeant Brown came forward. Using his right foot he knocked Mancilla's foot backwards, then doing the same to the other one. Eve pulled out her handcuffs and cuffed his hands.

"You go ahead and take him, Ed. I am going to tell his boss what happened."

After reciting his miranda rights, Ed walked his prisoner out to his car and put him in the back seat. A few minutes later Eve joined him. Using the remote button, he rolled down his window as she approached it. "You better get in the back with him. I will bring you back for your car after he is booked."

Once Eve was in the backseat with their prisoner, Ed put the car in gear and headed for headquarters.

Mancilla's attorney showed up at headquarters and two hours later he was back on the streets.

*

The Night School Strangler sat at his kitchen table with his head in his hands. The headache was pounding, and the voice inside his head would not quit talking.

"When are you going to start listening to me? If you want to get rid of the headaches, you have to get rid of the woman who saw you. She may not realize why you were there, but your behavior could become suspicious to her. She must be removed, she is a danger to both of us. You must eliminate her."

"I don't want to kill anymore. She didn't do anything to me and she will not hurt us. I don't want to kill her."

"You don't get it, do you? Your headaches go away every time you remove one of these women from the campus. They do not belong there. You know where women belong. Your father taught you that. Look at how your mother turned out. Remember how she treated you. She went to work and that is when she started to abuse you. She belonged at home taking care of you, instead she worked out and when she came home she abused you. These women will do the same thing to their kids. Do you want to be responsible for that? You must eliminate the woman who saw you. You must do it tonight. You will never get rid of the headache until you do it."

Slamming his fist down on the table, the Night School Strangler yelled out in agony, "Alright, I will do it. Just stop these headaches, please!"

"The headaches will stop when the woman is dead."

"You don't understand, there are no classes tonight. I cannot go after her tonight. You must stop the headaches until I can go after her. I do not know where she lives."

"You know where she lives. I have checked for you. I will give you her address. By eliminating her away from the campus, you will avert attention from yourself. The cops believe that you were on the campus every time an elimination took place. This will open it to other guys on the campus. You must go after her tonight."

What was the matter with him? The voice was right. She had to be eliminated, and he had to do it tonight. The Night School Strangler put on his boots. He reached into the utility drawer in the kitchen. Pulling out some wire and a pair of gloves, he put them into his bag. It was time to take care of the next elimination. He would do it and the headache would subside.

Grabbing the keys to his truck from the kitchen counter, he left his residence and headed outside. He got into the truck and drove to the destination of the woman's home. Sitting outside her house, he watched for a while. The lights were on in the place and he could see movement past the curtains. He did not know if anyone lived in the house besides the woman.

The Strangler got out of the car and headed towards the back of the house. He began checking the windows for any signs of anyone in the house other than the woman. After checking all sides of the house, he did not see anyone except the woman. It was time.

His head pounded. This was the only way to get rid of the headaches and shut up the voice. Besides, women did not belong on the campus. They only belonged at home. He would teach this woman her final lesson.

Checking the back door, he found that it did not have a deadbolt lock. He could not believe in this day and age that any woman living alone would not have deadbolt locks on their doors. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card. Using the card, he placed it between the door frame and the latch. The Strangler pushed it in and move the latch back. Turning the knob, he opened the door as quietly as possible.

Having looked through all the windows, the Strangler had a good idea of the layout of the home. He knew the woman was in the living room. He would have to go through the kitchen to get to the living room. The problem was she would be able to see him if he entered the living room from where she was sitting. She might have time to cry out. If the neighbors heard it, they might see him leave and be able to describe him or his car.

As he reached the living room, he peeked around the door frame to see her sitting in a recliner eating dinner and watching television. The Strangler stood there for a moment watching her. Why wasn't she serving some man and his children. She had no business living alone in this house like a man. The voice was right, she had to be eliminated.

A red tabby cat walked up to him and rubbed its body across his legs. That gave him an idea. He would use the cat to draw her into the kitchen.

Using his right foot, the Night School Strangler kicked the cat as hard as he could. The animal cried out in pain.

"Fluffy, what's the matter, baby?"

He heard her call out to the cat. Positioning himself behind the door, the Strangler waited. The woman came into the kitchen. He put the wire around her neck and began squeezing. She fought back to no avail. He could not believe how quickly she succumbed. Dropping her to the floor, the Strangler quickly left her house, got into his car and drove away. The headache was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 12

"Ed, do we have blood types of the ten men on that list," Ironside asked.

"Not yet, Chief. Carl is getting them. He is still working on it," Brown replied.

"What the blazes is taking so long? We need to shorten that list and we need to do it now before he murders another woman."

"It takes time, Chief," Eve said.

"Time is something we don't have. We have to find this man before he kills again."

Mark brought another cup of coffee and set it in front of his boss. He noticed the look Ed and Eve were giving him. It was obvious they did not think the chief needed any more caffeine.

"We know of at least one of them that has the type O blood. We need to take a closer look at Wyatt Smith," Ed said.

"He doesn't fit the pattern," Mark said.

"How so, Officer Sanger?" Ironside asked sarcastically.

"He cooperated completely. He even offered his blood type," Mark pointed out.

Ironside studied his notes in front of him. He had been able to confirm that Wyatt Smith had blood type O. Mark was right that he had cooperated. That did not mean that he was not the Night School Strangler. He could have figured out that they would check his blood type. He would know that they would find out that he had the blood type they were looking for. So, what better way to put them off his trail than to offer his blood type. Ironside had not let it get past him that he offered information on James Lander. He was quick to point out that he had a nervous breakdown.

Despite his cooperation, Ironside had no intention of giving him any less scrutiny. The sooner he got that list of male students with type O blood, the sooner they could shorten the list and start concentrating on those with the correct blood type, and that included Wyatt Smith.

The phone started ringing. Ironside was close enough to answer it, but decided to allow one of his staff members to take the call. He would continue to study his notes on the men they had interviewed.

Eve reached for the phone, picked up the receiver and greeted the caller, "Chief Ironside's office."

"Eve, put the Chief on," Carl Reese said with urgency.

She turned to look at the boss. "Chief, it's Carl. He sounds anxious."

"Put him on speaker," the detective barked. After Eve punched the speaker button, Ironside said, "Go ahead, Carl."

"Chief, the Night School Strangler has struck again," Carl told him.

Ironside glanced over at Mark. "I thought there were no law classes on Friday night."

"There isn't," Mark confirmed.

The chief returned his attention back to Carl. "Where on the campus was she murdered?"

"That's just it, Chief. She wasn't murdered on the campus. In fact, she wasn't murdered. She survived."

"Survived!" Eve exclaimed.

"Where was the attack?" Ironside demanded.

"In her home. He apparently went in the back door," Carl reported.

"How do we know it was the Strangler?" the chief asked.

"Same MO, he used a wire and approached her from behind."

"What's the girl's name?" Ed asked.

"Debra Moss."

"What hospital did they take her to?" Ironside demanded.

"Saint Mary's Hospital. It was closer than San Francisco General," Carl explained.

"Okay, we are on our way." Ironside slammed the phone in the cradle. He looked around at his staff. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

That sent Eve, Ed and Mark toward the door. Mark stepped behind the chief's chair and pushed it up the ramp.

They rode the elevator to the police parking garage and got into the van. Once inside, Mark started up the vehicle, pulled into the street and headed towards Saint Mary's Hospital.

Ironside remained quiet as Mark drove. If Carl was correct, this was the first time the Strangler had attacked a woman off the campus. Was he now branching out or did Debra Moss have a connection to the college? If she did, why did the Strangler choose to attack her in her home? Was it possible that she knew him? Would they finally get the break they needed to now nail this maniac? He shook his head. There wasn't any use speculating. They would be at Saint Mary's shortly. Hopefully, they would get some answers that would lead to some clue to the Strangler's identity.

Ironside had been so lost in thought that the entire drive went by without realizing he had not said a word to any of the members of his staff. Mark, Ed and Eve had worked with him long enough that they knew when to leave him alone when he was hashing out the case in his mind.

Mark pulled into a handicapped parking spot near the main entrance and shut off the engine. Before he could even step out of the van, his boss was in the lift and pressed the button that would lower his chair to the ground. Eve and Ed were already out of the vehicle and waiting for the chief. Mark joined them and pushed Ironside towards the entrance of the hospital.

As soon as they entered, memories of the shooting that put him in the wheelchair surfaced. The months he spent recovering from the bullet wound, as well as the time he spent when it was thought that another operation would put him back on his feet, started flooding back to him. Despite the surgery Doctor Ben Stein performed, the operation was not a success, and Ironside remained in the chair. He could still remember the looks on the faces of his staff as he answered their question about the results of the surgery. "We go on as before." He was certain they were just as disappointed as he had been when Ben told him it had no effect on his ability to walk again.

The chief did not show any emotion to his staff. He let on that it didn't bother him, but it had. It was the realization that nothing, no operation or anything else would ever put him back on his feet again. He would remain in the flaming chair for the remainder of his life. Still, it was not going to stop him from living life to the fullest regardless of his disability. He would continue to solve crimes and protect the people of his beloved city.

That was the reason he was here. There was a maniac loose in San Francisco and murdering women. He had to find a way to stop him before he killed anyone else. This time they got lucky. The woman had survived. He had to find out if she saw anything that could help them identify this man.

Ironside went immediately to the emergency desk. Pulling out his detective credentials, he presented them to the woman. "I am Chief Robert Ironside. These people are members of my staff. I am hear to see Debra Moss. She was brought in a short time ago.

"Sister Agatha said you would be arriving shortly," she smiled. "I am afraid, Chief Ironside, that she has given strict orders that you are not to be allowed in until she arrives."

"Then find her," Ironside barked. "This is an official police investigation."

The woman was immediately intimidated by Ironside's manner and tone of voice, as people usually were. Ironside had a way about him that intimidated those that were just simply in his presence.

Coming toward them, Sister Agatha hurried to the woman's rescue. She was one of the few people that was not the least intimidated by Robert Ironside. She had taken care of him for the months he had been in this hospital and again when he came in for the surgery that was intended to make him walk again.

"Robert, please remember you are in a hospital. Keep your voice down," she scolded him.

Ironside wanted to smile at the sight of his favorite nurse, but he could not. It was the little game they played with one another. Anyone observing them would think they could not stand each other, but nothing could be further from the truth. The affection between the two of them was great. "Well, if it isn't Sergeant Agatha," the detective said with a bit of sarcasm.

"I know why you are here, Robert. However, we can't let you interrogate Miss Moss at this time."

The expression changed on Ironside's face. It darken, his brows turned into a frown. Ed, Eve and Mark watched their boss. There was always a battle of the wits between Ironside and Agatha, and at any given time, one could make a bet as to who was going to win. This time the bets by all three would have been on their boss. He had a killer to catch and he was not about to allow a thing like medical treatment to get in his way.

"Sister, there is a maniac out there murdering college women. So far, he has been able to allude us. This is the first time one of his victims has lived through an attack. I have to know if this young woman saw the man or can give us anything that will help us find out who is doing these murders."

"I am sorry, Robert. She has been traumatized. I cannot allow you to traumatize her further. Come back in a few days and I will arrange for you to see her then." She turned to go but Ironside was not ready to give up the argument.

"No Sister, I am sorry, but I am going to have to insist on talking to her. I am not going to sit around and wait for this man to kill another woman. We may not be lucky the next time. His next victim could join the other dead women."

Agatha shook her head. "I am sorry, Robert. I simply can't allow it."

Any other cop would have taken no for an answer, but Robert Ironside was not any other cop. "Ed, let's go. We are going back to the emergency treatment rooms. You and Eve are to search every one of them until we find Debra Moss."

"Robert! I forbid it. You will force me to call the police," Agatha cried.

"Are you forgetting, Sister, I am the police, and there is not an officer on the entire force that will arrest me." He looked straight into her eyes in what she knew was a challenge. Before she could say anything, he softened his voice. "Agatha, I don't like this any more than you do, but I am trying to save the life of the next woman he attacks. I promise you I will not stay long."

Agatha stared at the detective. There was no detective in the police department that she had more respect for than Robert Ironside. He had saved her life when Morgan Haynes had tried to kill her here in this very hospital. He had been working with another doctor to kill terminal patients and collecting a fee from insurance companies that did not want to continue to pay out on patients that were going to die, but were not leaving the world fast enough for them. Robert had seen to it that she had the best surgeon available to relieve the pressure on her brain due to the blow to her head she received when she had been knocked from a shelf she had been standing on.

She was torn between allowing him to question Debra Moss in order to find the maniac that was killing women at the college, and standing her ground to keep from causing her any more trauma. She also knew Robert Ironside. He was not going to stop until he interviewed this young woman. Still, he would be as gentle as he could be, and despite his reputation for being gruff and loud, Robert was a gentle and caring person.

Rather than continue to argue with him, she decided to give into him... this time. "Alright, Robert. I will let you see her but only you, no one else. You have five minutes."

"Ten," Ironside argued. He had to push the limit to allow Agatha to beat him on this point.

"I said five and I mean it, Chief!"

"Take me to her, Sister," he told her.

"Follow me." Agatha led the way back to the emergency treatment rooms. Leading him down the hall, they passed several rooms with curtains pulled to give the patients some privacy. When they reached the end of the hall, the sister turned to the left and led him to the second room on the left. Ironside pulled back the curtain and wheeled his chair into Debra Moss's treatment room. She laid on the bed with her eyes closed. She must have sensed that someone had entered the room as she opened her eyes. Either that or Ironside had become so accustomed to the squeak of his wheelchair that he did not notice it any more, and did not realize it had waken her.

She smiled at the wheel-chair-bound detective. "You're Chief Ironside," she said.

"I am," Ironside confirmed. "Could we talk for a few minutes?" he said gently.

"Of course, Chief. I am sure you want to know about the man that attacked me, but I am afraid I cannot tell you very much."

"Did you see him?" Ironside asked.

"No sir, he came up behind me. He put a wire around my neck and started to strangle me. I fought for a moment, but I soon realized that it was not going to save me, so I pretended to have succumbed. I went limp. He stopped as soon as I did."

"Is there anything at all you remember that could help us? Did he speak to you?"

"No, he never said a word. He was wearing gloves, I know that because I could see them. They were leather gloves. I did not see anything on them that would help you. They were just gloves."

"He got in the back door. Didn't you lock it?" Ironside asked.

"He must have forced the back door, Chief. I know I locked it. The front door was locked as well. I am very careful about keeping the doors locked," Debra insisted.

Ironside had a hunch and he had to check it out. "Debra, do you go to college? Law school?"

She smiled slightly. "Yes, how did you know. Oh, probably from Mark Sanger. He goes to the same school I do. In fact, he is in one of my classes."

"I am assigning police officers to protect you until we catch this man. I promise you, he will not get near you again," Ironside assured her.

"Thank you, Chief Ironside."

The chief pulled a card out of his suit coat and handed it to her. "If you can think of anything at all, call me at that number. If I am not there one of my staff will take a message. Anything at all, something that happened at the college that you thought strange at the time; you call me."

"I will. Thank you, Chief."

Ironside lifted her hand and kissed it. Turning his chair around, he headed for the door. Just as soon as he reached it, there was Sister Agatha, ready to kick him out no doubt.

"Your five minutes is up, Robert."

"Doesn't it look like I am leaving," he snarled.

Agatha stepped in front of him. "She will be alright. She was lucky. Are you any closer to catching this maniac?"

He blew out a breath that to Agatha seemed like fire from a dragon. "I am not getting much to go on, Sister. This is the first time a victim has been left alive and she cannot tell me much. He approached her from behind. She never saw him."

"Robert, there is another first," the sister said.

"Yes, I know. It is the first one he has attacked that was not on the college campus. However, I have no doubt it is related to the college murders. She is a student there as well."

"But why didn't he go after her on the campus," Agatha asked.

"Maybe he spotted our security. Maybe he is branching out. I don't know, but one thing is for sure... it is going to make it harder to catch him." Ironside began wheeling away from her."

"Robert."

He turned his chair back to face the sister. "Yes."

"Be careful, these types always seem to come after you in the end."

The detective stared at Agatha for a moment. "Sister, you are right! I need to draw this man out instead of waiting for him to kill his next victim."

"You are not going to use yourself as bait, are you?" she said in disapproval.

"No, I don't look like a college student. However, I have a pretty policewoman who could pass for one." He turned and wheeled his chair back towards the waiting room.

*

The Night School Strangler had watched them take Debra Moss away in an ambulance. Thank God, she survived!

"You fool! You did not kill her. If you had done your job, she would have been taken away to the morgue, not the hospital. You let her live. So, how is the headache now?"

The Strangler sat there in his car. His head in his hands, he tried to ease the pain that was now increasing in his head. "I don't care, I did not want to kill her in the first place. Why don't you leave me alone?!"

"You really are a fool. You know fully well these women have to be removed from the campus. Ironside may find a clue to us and our mission will be destroyed. You must find Debra Moss and take care of her. She must not talk to Ironside."

"Our mission, yes, I almost forgot about our mission. You are right, they must be eliminated from the campus. But Ironside is watching the campus now. How will we eliminate them without him finding out?"

"You must find another way. Maybe you already have. Go to their homes. There is much less chance that Ironside can interfere with our mission. He won't be able to catch you."

"Yes! That is the way. I must kill them in there homes." The voice disappeared as it always did when the Strangler gave into it. The headache began to subside. He felt better already.

He just did not understand how he was going to reach Debra Moss at the hospital. He had heard that she had been taken to Saint Mary's Hospital. Maybe if he went over there, he could find out if she had any security around her. He might be able to get to her.

The Night School Strangler grabbed his coat and headed out the door. The voice was right, he had a mission and he must complete it. He did not know why he kept questioning it. But it was wrong to kill, wasn't it? He shook his head. The Strangler did not need that kind of thinking. He would never accomplish his mission if he did not suppress that kind of compassion. Those women did not deserve it.

The voice was right, he had to find a way to silence Debra Moss before she had a chance to talk to Robert Ironside. But, he was not a killer. Why would he kill such a beautiful woman?

The Strangler shook his head as it immediately started pounding again. "Stop it, just stop it!" he screamed. "The voice is right!! I must complete my mission. Those woman deserve no mercy! They are breaking the law!!

He turned the ignition of the vehicle and headed for Saint Mary's Hospital.

*

Ironside wheeled his chair into the office and down the ramp, slowing his chair as it descended. "Ed, find out what is taking so long to get the blood types of those male students. Call Carl, I want those blood types and I want them now!" Ironside ordered his sergeant.

Brown was on his feet and heading up the ramp. He was out the door before the chief completed his order.

"Chief I can finish the rest of the interviews with the students," Eve said, as she got up and headed towards the door. She did not get very far before Ironside stopped her.

"No! You and I are going to go over to Donna Moss's house and see if we can find anything our killer left behind that could help us."

"But the police already went through it," Eve said. When she saw the look on Ironside's face, she said, "And we will see if they missed anything." She followed her boss up the ramp.

When they reached the door, Ironside turned his chair back towards the office. He noticed Mark had not made a move to join them. "That includes you, Mister Sanger."

Mark hurried to catch up with them.

*

Ed entered the police lab outer office. Spotting Lieutenant Carl Reese, he went immediately over to him. As he approached him, Carl knew exactly what his presence meant.

"The chief is getting impatient," Carl said.

"And how," Ed replied with a grin. "Do we have any confirmation on the blood types yet?"

"I don't know, I just tried to get them from the lab. I knew this latest attack was going to set the chief off, so I headed right over here. So far they are not cooperating much. They said I would have to wait."

"Are you willing to wait?" Ed asked.

"Are you kidding, with the chief ready to explode?" Reese responded.

"Then let's get some answers," Ed said and headed for the lab.

The policewoman sitting at the desk was out of her seat immediately. "I am sorry, gentleman, but you are not allowed back there. You will have to wait until one of the technicians is free to talk to you."

"Do you want to tell Chief Ironside he has to wait?" Ed demanded. "Because I am about to call him down here. You know how he loves to have to come into a job that he has assigned us to do?"

The policewoman stood there in a moment of indecisiveness. She had a run-in with Chief Ironside when his patience had run out and she did not want to deal with him ever again when he was in that state of mind. She then stepped out of their way, clearing the entrance to the lab. Ed and Carl walked swiftly down the hall until they reached the door that read "Police Lab." Carl opened the door and the two men burst into inside.

It immediately caught the attention of several of the lab workers. One of the men came directly over to them. "You are not allowed in here," he said not so politely.

"We are under orders of Chief Ironside to get the results of the blood tests on the men who offered to have their blood taken," Carl said.

"Well, Chief Ironside will just have to wait. You would think he is the only cop that sends stuff to this lab," the technician growled.

"He may not be the only one," Ed said, "but he is the highest ranking one. Now what about those tests?"

"I will get them to him tomorrow," he snarled, as he turned to walk away.

Carl Reese hurried to step in front of him, blocking his way. Pulling out his cellphone, he threaten, "Suppose we just call the chief and you can tell him they won't be ready until tomorrow? Because we sure as hell are not telling him that. And by the way, in case no one has told you, he way outranks you. Now I am telling you for the last time, Chief Ironside wants those tests and he wants them now. Do you provide them or do I place a call to the chief?"

Ed almost smiled. Carl's Italian temper came in handy on occasion. This was one of those occasions. It was amazing how quickly police officers could come up with the information Chief Ironside wanted when they were threatened with him.

The technician stood there for a moment. He resented being pushed around by these officers. On the other hand, he had dealt with Robert Ironside and his demands before. It was never pleasant when he wanted something and would not wait until they had time to do it. "Alright, but I am filing a complaint with Commissioner Randall. I don't know where you get off thinking you are more important than anyone else in the department," he grumbled.

"We're not," Ed said, "but we do work for the highest ranking cop in the department." He stood there staring into the eyes of the technician, making it obvious that he was not backing down.

The technician left the two men standing there and went through a door in the back of the lab. A few minutes later he brought back an envelope with the information they had come to retrieve. He shoved the large envelope towards the two men and said, "Now I would like you to leave. You are disturbing our work."

"This was completed and you had not sent it to Chief Ironside?" Ed said in disbelief.

"I haven't had time to take it over to his office. Like I said, he is not the only cop that sends things over here."

"You could have called us, we would have picked it up," Carl snarled.

"I have not even had the time to do that," he protested.

Ed shook his head. "By the way, you go right ahead and file a complaint with Commissioner Randall. He is the one that assigned this case to Chief Ironside in the first place. I have a feeling it will fall on deaf ears."

"And we intend to tell the chief that this was sitting here completed and you didn't even bother to call us," Carl added. "I am sure that will go over big with him."

"Not to mention the commissioner," Ed said. The two men left the technician standing there with a worried look and headed outside. "Come on, Carl, we will go over these in my car." Reese followed Ed to his car and got in as Ed slipped in behind the wheel. He unsealed the manila envelope, opened it and pulled the contents out. Holding it over so Carl could also read it, they looked up at each other.

"Well, this certainly narrows the field," Carl said.

"We have to get this back to the chief. I'll meet you back at his office," Brown told him. If the killer was indeed one of these students, they had just gotten a huge break in the case by reducing the list to three men.

Carl got out of the vehicle to head to his own. Ed started the Ford and raced back to the old Hall of Justice building which now served as Police Headquarters.


	13. Chapter 13

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 13

Robert Ironside was becoming impatient. He had been waiting for Ed and Carl to report back to him. Neither one of his officers had contacted him or let him know if the reports were ready. He wanted to get over to Debra Moss's house, but decided to wait for Ed or Carl to report back.

Once they determined who had type O blood, the lab would compare their DNA to that which was found on the murdered victims. He would think that the police lab would already have done that, but he wasn't holding his breath. As good as theY were, they normally did not think ahead. They simply did as they were asked to do and no more.

The door to Ironside's office opened; Ed and Carl entered and came down the ramp. They headed directly for the main table and sat on each side of Ironside. The chief watched as his sergeant dropped a manila envelope in front of him.

"We got what we needed, Chief. It has been narrowed down to just three men. Brown waited for his boss to open the lab report.

Ironside noticed the date stamped on the envelope. "This was done yesterday." He looked at both Carl and Ed.

Carl spoke up. "That's right, Chief. They have had it completed since yesterday. They just had not sent it over."

Ironside opened the manila envelope and pulled out its contents. He began going through it. Only three of the men that were on the campus at the time of the murders had type O blood: Wyatt Smith, James Lander and Jody Mansilla. Ironside continued reading, but did not find what he was looking for.

"Where is the report that compares their blood to the DNA taken from the victim's?" he demanded.

"Only eight of the men were willing to give a blood sample," Ed answered. "James Lander did give a blood sample and he had the blood type we are looking for.

"That leaves Wyatt Smith and Jody Mansilla. I take it that neither one of them were willing to give blood?" Ironside surmised.

"Not exactly, Chief," Carl answered. "We were unable to reach Wyatt Smith or Jody Mansilla in order to get a blood sample."

"How did we find out their blood types?" Ironside questioned.

"Actually, they were on record at the college," Ed answered. "We got all but two of them to give a blood sample.

"Including Smith and Mansilla? They were on record as well?"

"That's correct," Brown confirmed. The expression on his face changed as he realized something. He took the reports and began searching through them as Ironside watched him.

"What are you looking for?" Ironside asked him.

"Adam Wright. He was extremely belligerent and nasty when I questioned him. I thought he would be one of the ones that would need further scrutiny. I just wanted to check his blood type and see if we missed it somehow."

Ironside gave Ed Brown a moment before his patience wore out. "Well, what does it say?"

"It says his blood type is type B," Brown answered.

"Well I guess we can rule him out," Mark said.

Ironside watched the expression on Ed's face. He could tell that his sergeant was extremely bothered by this information. "If you feel that strongly, Ed, have it double checked. Call and find out who his physician is. Then get a court order to get a look at his medical records."

Ed went to the nearest phone and began dialing. He just couldn't believe that Adam Wright could be off the hook. There was something in his behavior that really bothered the detective. Even though they knew that the killer was blood type O, Brown was certain that Wright could be quite capable of murder.

"Eve, you and I are going over to Debra Moss's house. I want to take a look and see if there is anything there that can help us," Ironside said. "Mark, you're driving." He turned to Carl and ordered, "Lieutenant, find out if the lab checked the blood types against the DNA found on the victims. I can't believe it was not included in those reports."

"On my way, Chief." Carl headed up the ramp and out of the office to complete his assignment.

Mark watched as Reese left. He did not want to go with the chief, he had something else in mind. He hoped that he wouldn't question him. "Chief, if it is okay with you I would like to stay behind."

Ironside turned to look at his aid. "Why?" The detective was concerned that Mark might be thinking of doing something on his own. He had pretty much followed his orders since they had had that talk. Ironside knew that Mark was still vulnerable since it was his girlfriend that had been murdered by the Strangler.

"Quite frankly, this is kept me from getting my homework done. I need to go over to the college and do some research in the library." Mark had to make sure that his explanation had some semblance to the truth. He never ever wanted to lie to Robert Ironside. He had too much respect for the man to do that. What he did not tell him was that he also wanted to talk to James Lander. Lander was known for spending time in the library and could usually be found there during the day. Mark was going to see if he was there.

The chief hesitated for a moment and then said, "Looks like you're driving, Eve. Can you handle it?"

"Of course, Chief. I have driven the van many times before," she answered. She wondered if sometimes the chief had a different standard for her than for Ed. Then again, she knew he was always protective of her. The chief head always had a protective instinct when it came to women. He probably felt the van was a lot of vehicle for her to handle.

"Since you guys are taking the van, could I use your car, Eve?" Mark inquired.

Officer Eve Whitfield reached into her purse, pulled out the keys and flipped them over to Mark. "Remember, if you smash it up, you've bought it." A big smile spread across her face.

"You got it," said Mark. "One Rolls Royce coming up."

Eve noticed that her boss was already up the ramp. She hurried to catch up with him. She passed him and opened the door as he wheeled out.

Mark looked over at Ed who was still on the phone. He grabbed his jacket and without saying a word, left the office.

*

Lieutenant Carl Reese enter the outer office at the Police lab. The same police officer was at the desk when he and Brown were there earlier. She frowned when she saw Carl enter.

"The technicians are not going to be happy to see you again so quickly," she said as a smile broke on her face.

Lieutenant Reese grinned. "Chief Ironside likes to keep them on their toes."

"I have dealt with Chief Ironside. I prefer to stay on his calmer side."

Carl could not help but smile. So many officers were intimidated by the detective's gruff manner. One thing when working for Chief Ironside, people had a tendency to jump when they heard his name. None of them wanted to deal with him directly. For if they had to, it was never pleasant. Naturally, most of them bent over backwards to give his detectives what they wanted in order to avoid the chief. They respected him, but they definitely did not want to deal with him when he was upset or in a hurry for something.

"The chief doesn't have a calmer side," Carl told her.

"In that case, I hope I never have to deal with him when he's upset."

"Well, you just may have to. If I don't get the reports he now wants, he will be down here himself. I can guarantee that. Tell Jim Grant I want to see him." Carl issued that as an order rather than a request. He did not have time to worry about their sensibilities. He would rather deal with them then with an angry Robert Ironside.

"One moment, Lieutenant Reese, I will call Jim and see if he will see you."

"He will see me, he doesn't have a choice."

She picked up the phone meekly, dialed the number and waited for Grant to answer. "Jim, Lieutenant Carl Reese is here to see you. He is here on behalf of Chief Ironside."

"Oh for god sakes! What the hell does Ironside want now?" Grant raved.

While looking at Reese, she answered, "He wants the DNA reports."

"Ah, I don't have those ready," he said.

She could tell that something was definitely wrong. All she knew was there was no way Carl Reese was going to accept that for an answer. Holding her hand over the receiver mouthpiece, she turned to Reese and said, "Jim says the DNA reports are not finished yet."

"Tell him I want to see him now," Reese insisted.

She removed her hand in said, "Jim, the lieutenant would like to see you."

"Tell him I do not have time. I have other work for other police officers, and I am on a time constraint. He is just going to have to wait."

Grant had said that so loudly that Carl Reese could hear every word. Without giving her a chance to repeat his words, Reese headed for the door.

"Lieutenant, you cannot go back there without authorization!"

He looked her directly in the eye and said, "Wanna bet?" He shoved the door open and entered the lab. A technician stepped in front of him. "You have no authorization to be in here, you are going to have to leave. Leave now or ... "

"Or what? You'll call the police? Who are you going to call that is going to throw me out of here when I am under orders from Ironside?" Reese growled at the technician.

Jim Grant walked over to the arguing men and intervened. "Look, Reese, we have already put ourselves out and rushed the blood test for Chief Ironside. I am afraid he is just going to have to wait for the DNA tests. There is other work ahead of it."

"I think you may want to reconsider that, Mister Grant. We have a killer out there murdering college women. Three of those men that you checked have the same blood type as the DNA left on the victims. We need to know if one of them is the killer. Do you want to explain to Commissioner Randall and Chief Ironside that you don't have time to check the DNA? Because I sure as hell am not going to do it. That maniac could be murdering another woman right this minute. Do you want that on your head?"

"I am sorry, we just can't get it done today." Grant turned around to leave, but Reese went around him, stepping in front of him, blocking his path.

"Okay fine, you call the chief and you tell him."

The intercom buzzed drawing Jim Grant's attention. He reached for the phone and pressed a button. "Yeah, now what is it?"

"Mister Grant, Commissioner Randall is here to see you."

Carl watched as Grant's face turned pale. He wondered what had upset him. He said nothing and waited to see what had transpired. Carl was not about to leave without that DNA report. He knew that Chief Ironside would hit the roof if he did not return with it.

"Did he say what he wanted?" Grant said into the phone.

"No sir, he just said that it was imperative that he speak with you."

From the look on Grant's face, Carl was certain that whoever was in the outer office was not someone that Jim Grant wanted to see at the moment.

Grant looked around as if he was looking for an escape route. "All right, send him in."

The door to the lab opened and Commissioner Dennis Randall walked in. When he saw Carl, he walked directly over to him. Offering his hand, Randall shook hands with the lieutenant. "Well hello, Carl. What brings you down here?"

Jim Grant looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. He knew what was coming. Reese was going to use Commissioner Randall to pressure him for the DNA report.

"Chief Ironside has narrowed the list of possible suspects in the Strangler case to three men. All three have type O blood."

Randall expressed his approval with a big smile. "Thank God! I have the entire city council calling daily regarding this serial killer. I might as well ask you because I certainly cannot get Bob on the telephone. Have the blood test been compared to the DNA found on the victim's yet?"

"Well sir, there is a problem with that," Reese told him.

"Problem? What problem?"

"It seems Mister Grant feels that he has more important lab work going on right now. I came here for the lab reports, and he tells me they are not done today and will not be."

Grant's face turned red. Carl was not sure whether it was from anger or embarrassment. He didn't care which. All he wanted was to get the DNA reports for Ironside. He was not about to go back to him and tell him they weren't ready.

Randall looked at Jim Grant. "Why are these reports not ready?"

"Commissioner, we have a ton of work in this lab. I understand that this case is important, but there are a lot of other police officers who are waiting for the results of tests that they sent to this lab."

"Just how many of them are dealing with a serial killer?" Carl asked.

Grant was about to make an angry reply when Commissioner Randall put his hand up to head off a heated argument.

"Jim, if you want to get along in this Police Department, I suggest you not ignore the requests of Robert Ironside. "If he is demanding and wants something right away, he is always justified. In this particular case, I asked him to solve it as quickly as possible in order to save lives. Therefore I am ordering you to put the chief's request ahead of anything else that you are doing. You are to see to it that he gets the DNA test as soon as possible. Where are you on the work? Is it possible to get that information to him today?"

Carl knew immediately that something was drastically wrong. The look on Jim Grant's face told him that Ironside would not be getting any report today. He did not know why, but he knew that was the case. He watched Grant as he struggled with how to tell Commissioner Randall whatever the problem was.

"Sir, I am afraid that it is not possible," Grant told the commissioner.

"And why not? Haven't you been working on it all along? You should be close to completing the work, shouldn't you be?" Randall's voice had taken on a completely different tone.

"Actually ... it has not been ... completed." Grant looked away from Randall as he could not meet his eyes.

Carl could see that the commissioner was now thinking along the same lines he was. "Something has gone wrong, hasn't it?"

"Well, sort of ... yes, we do have a problem," Grant admitted.

It was clear that Commissioner Randall was trying to keep from showing impatience and anger. However, he was not doing a very good job of it. "Just exactly what sort of a problem?"

"Well, there will be a bit of a delay in producing what Chief Ironside needs. I will let him know as soon as we have it."

Carl almost laughed aloud. Grant was trying to avoid telling the commissioner what the problem was. He obviously did not know him that well. There was no way Randall was going to allow it to be left at that. Carl knew he was about to demand an explanation.

"I don't want to hear about any delays until you tell me what the problem is and what solution you have come up with." Randall was looking directly at Grant who was avoiding his eyes completely. Carl knew that the commissioner was not an individual to mess with. About the only one who got away with it was Robert Ironside himself. Otherwise Commissioner Randall was a force to be reckoned with on his own.

"Well, there is a problem, but we are hoping to have it solved very shortly." Obviously Grant did not want to tell the commissioner what the problem was. He was about to find out that he had no choice. Commissioner Randall was over the entire police department and you did not put him off. Well, Ironside could put him off, but he was the only one that could.

"We are having a problem with comparing the blood types with the DNA."

Carl wondered just how long Grant thought he was going to be able to avoid answering Randall. The commissioner was ready to explode as it was.

"Jim, I don't know why you are beating around the bush, but I want a straight answer from you and I want it right now. What is the problem with the DNA testing?"

Jim Grant had been hoping for more time before he had to reveal what had happened in the lab. He could no longer avoid answering Commissioner Randall without getting himself in trouble. The problem was, if he did answer the commissioner, he would be in trouble anyway. It was one of those situations where you were damned if you did and damned if you didn't.

He still could not look the commissioner in the eye and he knew Randall hated that and considered it a weakness. Nevertheless, he was embarrassed and upset with what he had to tell him. "Commissioner, the problem is we cannot find the DNA evidence from the women that were murdered. I am afraid it is a possibility one of our technicians accidentally destroyed it. We no longer have it in our possession."

Carl Reese couldn't help himself. He let out a whistle. "You're going to have loads of fun telling that to Chief Ironside. I guarantee he is going to hit the roof."

Randall stood there stunned. He could not believe that the police lab could have destroyed all of the DNA work that had been done on the murdered women. Even with the blood type O that they had recorded for the three suspects, it could no longer be tied to the Night School Strangler.

At a near shout, Randall complained. "How in the devil do you lose lab work?"

"Sir, I don't know how it was lost. We are just unable at the moment to find it. Believe me, we have done everything we can to find out what happened."

"Just exactly when were you planning on telling Chief Ironside?" Randall demanded.

"Well, to be honest, I was hoping we wouldn't have to tell him. I was hoping that we would locate the DNA lab work."

"I hope you realize that the next murder victim may have been prevented. Remember that when you read about the next dead woman in the newspaper. I suggest you call Chief Ironside and give him the bad news. Neither Carl or I plan on doing it. You can deal with the fallout. Furthermore, I expect an investigation into this incident, and appropriate action better be taken if you plan to continue to work for the San Francisco Police Department."

"Yes sir," said the dejected head of the Police lab.

Randall turned on his heels and left the lab. Reese followed him out.

Author's Notes: I am sorry it has taken so long to publish this chapter. On Aug 10th my elderly mother (92 years old) had taken ill and was hospitalized. Since then, she had only gotten worse. I tried to keep up with the chapters despite spending every available minute with her. She died October 28th and I just did not feel like doing anything. My mother and I were very close. I decided that the best medicine was to get back to writing as it is what she would have wanted me to do. I only regret that she was never able to finish reading the four fanfictions I have going at the moment.

Kathleen

(Kaleen1212)


	14. Chapter 14

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 14

"Chief," Eve called out. "There's a call for you on line one."

Ironside looked up from his paperwork. "Who is it, Eve?"

"It's Jim Grant over at the Police lab."

Anxious to receive his reports on the DNA, Ironside punched the button on line one, picked up the receiver and said, "Jim, what in the blazes is taking so long with my DNA reports? I needed those yesterday."

"Well sir, that is what I am calling you about. There has been a problem with the reports," Grant told him.

"What do you mean a problem? I need those reports. You're not going to tell me that they are being delayed, are you?" the detective growled.

"I'm sorry, sir, but they have been misplaced."

Eve was sure that the roof of the building was going to blow off with Ironside's temper. Ed took one look at Eve and headed out of the office. Officer Whitfield smiled and mouthed, "Coward!"

"Misplaced it! How in the flaming hell do you misplace DNA reports?" Ironside roared.

"We don't know yet, sir. We are investigating their disappearance," Grant said meekly.

Ironside shook his head and ran his hand down his face. "Just exactly how long is it going to take to rerun the DNA tests?"

"Well sir, there is a problem with that as well."

"Don't tell me you lost the samples?" said the ever-rising voice of Robert Ironside.

"I'm afraid so, Chief."

"You explain that to the family of the strangler's next victim!" Ironside slammed the phone down into the cradle with such force that Eve was amazed the phone didn't break.

The chief looked around the room. When he did not spot Brown, he addressed Eve. "Where's Ed?"

"He left to do some further checking on Adam Wright," Eve responded immediately so as not to be the recipient of her boss's sour mood.

"Why would he bother to do that? We already know that he does not have blood type O?"

"You authorized him to do some further checking, Chief," she reminded him.

"I know that," snapped Ironside. "Come on, Eve. We are going to go see Jamie Masilla." The detective whirled his chair around and headed towards the ramp. As usual, Eve had to run to catch up with him.

*

Sergeant Ed Brown walked into the San Francisco Medical Facility. Several people were sitting in chairs, obviously waiting to be seen. Ed did not have the luxury of waiting around. His boss would become even more impatient to gather information and evidence to catch the maniac that was running around killing women.

The Strangler was now making it more difficult. He obviously was no longer limiting his killings to women at the college campus. Although Ed had no doubt he would continue to kill college women, he was certain that he would no longer do it at the school. Trying to catch him when he was going to the individual homes was not going to be easy.

The loss of the DNA samples and evidence would surely slow down the investigation. It was almost as if the killer was not meant to be caught. Ed almost chuckled at that thought. The killer had no idea what he was up against. Chief Robert Ironside would not give up until he caught the man. It might take a little longer than they would like, but he would catch him.

It really bothered Ed from what they had learned that Adam Wright did not have blood type O. That was something he was going to double check on. The man simply gave the sergeant the impression that he could easily kill an individual. He was not going to trust the initial reports. He would not be satisfied until he was able to confirm that Adam Wright was definitely not the Strangler.

Sergeant Brown walked over to the desk and waited for the nurse behind it to acknowledge his presence. It did not take very long as she looked up at him and smiled.

"Yes sir, may I help you?" she said to the handsome detective.

Ironside's top officer reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out his police badge. Opening it, he flashed it in front of the nurse. "My name is Sergeant Ed Brown from Chief Ironside's office. I would like to speak with the doctor in charge of Adam Wright's case."

Earlier that day, Sergeant Brown had discovered that Adam Wright had been treated at this medical facility as a teenager. It fit into the pattern of the Night School Strangler. The Strangler may not have necessarily had medical treatment, but Ed would leave no stone unturned.

"That would be Doctor Swainson. One moment, Sergeant, and I will tell him you are here to see him."

Picking up the receiver, she punched four numbers into the phone's keypad. After a moment, she said, "Doctor Swainson, there is a Sergeant Brown from Chief Ironside's office here to see you."

When she finished, she looked at Brown again and said, "You can go right in, Sergeant. She pointed to the door behind her and told him, "Turn right as soon as you go through that door; it's the last one on your left."

Ed thanked her, opened the door and turned right. He walked down the hall until he reached the last office on the left. The name, Doctor Edward Swainson confirmed he had arrived at the correct office. Brown reached for the knob and opened the door.

He was immediately met by another nurse. "Sergeant Brown, if you will follow me, I will take you to the doctor."

Brown thanked her and followed her towards another office. She opened the door and informed the man on the other side, "Doctor, Sergeant Brown is here to see you."

"Bring him in," the man responded.

The sergeant walked into the room and offered his hand to the doctor. "Sergeant Brown from Chief Ironside's office," he told him.

"Good morning, Sergeant. How is your boss, by the way?"

Remembering the mood Chief Ironside was in when he left the office, Ed almost chuckled. He really did not believe the doctor would want to know. "He's fine sir, thank you for asking."

"So, what can I do for the city's top cop?"

"You treated a man by the name of Adam Wright when he was a teenager. I was wondering if you could help me with his background." Sergeant Brown began.

The doctor immediately became uncomfortable with the conversation. "Chief Ironside knows fully well that we cannot discuss the private medical condition of our patients without a court order."

Brown smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the court order the doctor was demanding. He set it down on the desk in front of him. "Is this what you're talking about?"

Doctor Swainson took a few moments to read through the court order. He wanted to make sure he did not give out any information other than what was requested legally.

"Alright, I am satisfied that you have the authority to get this information. What is it you want to know?"

"You treated Adam Wright when he was in his teens. Can you tell me about it?"

The doctor set his hands on the desk and intertwined his fingers. "He was an extremely troubled boy. He started out being abusive to animals, mostly squirrels. He would catch them and then strangle them."

The doctor had Ed Brown's immediate attention. "What did he use to strangle them with?"

"Apparently, he used wire. But that is not all. When he was admitted to this hospital by his parents, we discovered that he had a split personality. The violent part of his personality was telling him to kill these animals. The normal part of his personality would object. Although, the normal part of his personality was not exactly docile"

"What do you mean by that?" Brown asked.

"He was a bully. If people got on his nerves, he would threaten to beat them up. Actually, he really did not do very much of it. He normally was able to intimidate people into backing down from him."

"Why was he released from this hospital?"

The doctor set back in his chair and replied, "As you know, in this day and age there are no forced medical incarcerations. When he was under eighteen, his parents had the legal authority to force him to stay here. Once he turned eighteen, we could no longer hold him here against his will."

"So he left here uncured?"

Swainson shook his head. "I did not say that, Sergeant. He was doing extremely well and would have been declared clinically cured at any time."

"Are you saying he was clinically cured when he was released?" Ed wanted to know.

"He was clinically cured as no longer a split personality. However, he did have some violent tendencies that were not cured here."

Ed thought for a moment and then asked, "Doctor, is it your opinion that he is capable of murder?"

"I did not say that either, Sergeant. I said he was cured of being a split personality. He had an extremely bad temper, which could lead to violence against others. I do not believe that his intention would ever be murder. However, with his temper, he could accidentally kill somebody in a fight."

"One last question, Doctor. Do you have his blood type on file?"

"Absolutely. In case any of our patients are injured, we have to know their blood type. One moment and I will look it up for you." Doctor Swainson started typing on the computer keyboard. A second later he had the answer Ed Brown was requesting. "He has type A blood."

"Are you absolutely certain of that? Please, it is very important that we know his correct blood type."

With a puzzled look, the doctor replied, "I am absolutely certain. While he was here, he cut his wrist. We had to do a blood transfusion. He definitely has type A blood."

The look on Ed Brown's face was that of disappointment. The doctor noticed it immediately. "Is there a problem with that?"

"He fits the pattern in every way for the Night School Strangler ... except the blood type."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sergeant, but if you are looking for someone with any blood type other than A, Adam Wright is not your man."

Ed stood up and offered his hand to the doctor. After shaking it, the detective turned and headed for the door. "I appreciate your time and help. We may call on you again if it becomes necessary."

"Glad to help. Tell the chief I said hello."

"I will, and thanks again." Brown left the doctor's office rather deflated. Every bit of the information he had received pointed at Adam Wright as the Night School Strangler. The blood type just did not make sense. He wondered if the police lab had made a mistake. After all, they had lost all of the DNA evidence. Was it possible that the Night School Strangler actually had blood type A? Ed was not about to give this up until they were absolutely positive that the Strangler had type O.

*

The pounding in his head had started all over again. Why in God's name couldn't he get rid of these headaches? The Strangler sat at his kitchen table with his head in his hands. There was a bottle of Advil sitting in front of him. He had already taken two of them. Another bottle of Ibuprofen was sitting there as well. He reached for it, snapped off the cap and pulled out two capsules. He didn't care if it was too much. He had to get rid of the headache.

"You know that it's time to remove another lawbreaker." The voice in his head began talking to him again.

"No! No, I will not kill! I will not kill!" He shouted. Placing the capsules in his mouth, he swallowed them without the benefit of water. He would stop the headaches on his own. The voice was not going to force him to kill again. He would not allow it. He was tired of doing the voice's dirty work.

"If you want them dead, do it yourself! I'm all finished killing for you." He shouted at his split personality as he looked up towards the ceiling.

The voice was laughing at him. Laughing hysterically. "You will do what you are told. You have no choice. Unless you eliminate another lawbreaker, your headaches will only get worse. All of the pills in the world will not stop them. Only I can stop them for you. Remember when you used to kill animals. We used to strangle them together. They deserved it as well. Don't you remember the barking dogs, the ones who would not shut up. They gave you headaches, just like you are having now. Those headaches went away when you eliminated the dogs. Just like then, if you eliminate the lawbreakers, your headaches will go away."

"No!!! I won't do it!!!" he screamed.

He ran out of the kitchen and into the living room. Turning on the TV, he noticed that the news was on the station. They were reporting about the latest killing by what they were calling the Night School Strangler. That was who the voice was. He realized it now. He was the Night School Strangler.

The police did not seem to have much information. Would they catch him? He had to help them. He thought that the voice was within him. Now he knew that the voice was actually someone else. It wasn't him at all. He didn't do it!!

"You are a fool! You did do it. You did it because I told you to do it. You don't seem to understand, you are no longer in control. You haven't been for a long time. I am in control. I think it is time I take over. There is two of us, but there will only be one of us eventually and I guarantee it will not be you."

"Just shut up! Shut up! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

The look on the Strangler's face changed; the agonizing look disappeared. A calm and serene expression replaced it. The real Night School Strangler grinned. "Finally, I have taken over. No longer will I have to depend on him to remove the lawbreakers. I can now do it myself. He is so weak. Just so weak."

The Strangler went into the study, and on the desk where his host left it, was a list of female students he had stolen from the administration office. He wondered how he ever got his host to do anything. He was so indecisive. Why did he not realize that these women had to be removed? Well now, he would not have to depend on him anymore.

The Strangler shook his head. He could tell that his host was trying to gain control. He laughed at him; that he thought he could ever overtake him. He was the one issuing the orders. He was the one in control. He was the one that would remain in control.

He concentrated on keeping his host in the background. He walked over to the couch and sat down with the list in his hands. Reading the names of the female students that were enlisted at night school, he decided there was one in particular that needed to be removed. She was pushy and thought she was smarter than the men. Well, she would find out that she was weak and unimportant. He would teacher her the ultimate lesson.

Yes, Stella Unger would be next. She would be removed from the campus. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, wrote down her address and grabbed the bag he would need to do the job. Opening the zipper, he checked to make sure there was ample wire to go around her neck. At least his host kept the bag filled with what he would need.

The Night School Strangler picked up the keys to his host's car. He headed out the door. He had a job to do since he could no longer depend on his weaker friend to help him.

*

Stella Unger just finished her lunch. All she had time for was a sandwich. She wondered how many peanut butter sandwiches she would eat before she made it through law school. Stella did not have time to fix anything fancy as she was struggling to keep up her grades. She knew the law inside out, but she seemed to choke when it came to taking a test.

She sat next to the fire with her feet drawn up underneath her. Trying to keep her attention on her school work, she kept glancing into the fire as it danced. She could feel the warmth coming from it and she sat there enjoying it.

Stella looked down at her books and tried to concentrate. She knew eventually she would finish law school. There was nothing more in the world she wanted than to become a lawyer. She couldn't understand why when she sat at home, or even in class, she had no trouble comprehending what was taught. Why was it that when she sat down to take an exam, she just couldn't seem to remember the details? When the test was completely over, everything seemed to come right back.

Stella had always been that way. School work had always come easy for her until she had to answer the questions of an exam. Somehow she had managed to get through school with a high B average despite her memory problems when she took the exams.

She had been concentrating so hard on her school work she did not hear the back door being jimmied.

The Night School Strangler entered the small home of Stella Unger and made his way through the kitchen. He stopped as he came to the living room. Hidden off to the side, he peeked around into the room. He could see the woman sitting in an easy chair next to the fire. It turned out to be a perfect setup as her back was to him. He set down his bag, unzipped it and pulled out the wire. This time he was going to be careful. The man he had taken control of took too many chances. He reached into the bag and pulled out a ski mask. After pulling it over his face, he was ready.

With wire in hand, he quietly moved forward toward his victim. She seemed to be engrossed in a book, probably a law book. After all, she was a law student just as he was. But he had a right to be there, she did not. She was a female. Females belonged at home; a point his father had ingrained in him all of his childhood life.

Just as he reached Stella Unger, she turned around and saw him. It would not stop him however as he knew she did not know who he was, and besides there was no way he would bungle her removal as his alter-ego had done.

The Night School Strangler wrapped the wire around Unger's neck and began to squeeze. He could not believe her strength as she struggled against him.

Stella Unger did not panic as she had no doubt that the man attacking her was the Strangler. Glancing over at the table beside her chair, there was a fingernail file. She picked it up and using all of her strength stabbed the Strangler in his left hand. The fingernail file went through the man's gloves and directly into his hand.

The strangler screamed. The wire around her neck loosened. Stella stomped on his foot with her heel. She only wished she had not taken off her spike heels. The spike on the shoes that she had warned that day would certainly have had more of an impact than her bare foot.

She attempted to get away from him but he recovered much faster than she could have imagined. Once again, he tightened the wire around her neck. Stella fought with everything from within her, but it wasn't enough. She could feel the air leave her lungs. She could no longer draw any in do to the strangler's hold around her neck. Soon everything begin to turn black and she went limp.

He did not hesitate. He had to get out of there in case someone had heard him scream. He did not want to be discovered in her house. The Strangler was not about to make the same mistakes as his host had done. Hurrying for the door, he did not notice he had left blood all over Stephanie Unger's neck and the t-shirt she had been wearing.

He had been in such a hurry that he had forgotten his bag which was sitting in the hall just the other side of the living room. The Strangler beat it out of the house as fast as he could as he walked swiftly down the street to where his car was parked.


	15. Chapter 15

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 15

Ironside pulled the van to a stop just outside of Jody Masilla's apartment building. Eve was happy to have the chief with her. The memory of what happened the last time she met up with Mansilla was still fresh in her mind.

Eve waited for him to wheel towards the building. As he did, she stepped behind the wheel chair and began pushing it to the front door.

She reached over and open the door to allow her boss access inside. He put both hands on each side of the door frame and pulled his wheelchair over the threshold. Eve led him to Jody Mansilla's room. Her boss nodded at her and she knocked on the door.

The door opened and Mansilla stood on the other side. When he saw Eve his expression soured. "What the hell are you doing back here, cop?"

"My name is Ironside," the chief informed him. Pulling out his badge he displayed it to Mansilla. "You have already met Officer Whitfield. We want to ask you a few questions," he told him.

"She already asked me a few questions. Now get out of here!" He tried shutting the door, but Ironside wheeled his chair forward preventing it from closing.

"What the hell? Who do you think you are, cripple? I could dump that chair over and their would be nothing you could do about it."

Ironside pointed up at Eve Whitfield and growled. "You can answer my questions now or Officer Whitfield will put you under arrest on suspicion of murder, Mister Mancilla."

"You can't get away with that, cripple. I didn't kill anybody."

"You have the correct blood type," Eve said. "And you have no alibi at the time of the murders, we have checked."

"Isn't that just tough. You have to have a thing called evidence. You do not have it. I had nothing to do with any of those women and you can't prove I did."

"Are you going to let us in or do I have Officer Whitfield arrest you?" Ironside snarled at the young man."

Jody stood there for a moment and then backed up, allowing Ironside and Officer Whitfield entrance into his room. "So ask your questions and get the hell out of here. I have homework to do."

"For a young man that is studying to become a lawyer, your attitude is going to be a major hurdle," the chief told him.

"Why? Because I hate cops? You're all the same. You roust and harass innocent citizens. I had nothing to do with those murders," he growled back at the detective.

"Then you should have no problem answering our questions." Ironside pulled a paper out of his inside suit pocket. He handed it to Jody Mansilla. "Those are the dates of each one of the murders. Can you substantiate your whereabouts at the time they were committed?"

Jody looked at the paper. He was well aware of when all of the murders took place. He knew he had been studying in his room, but he had no proof of it. He was certain that they couldn't hang murders on him he didn't commit since they would have to match up his DNA to that found on the victims.

Suddenly his entire demeanor changed. "Look, I am sorry. I apologize to you, Officer Whitfield. It is just that I have been through a lot and I'm always being accused of things that I didn't do. My parents were abusive and I went through plenty of therapy before I could handle all of that. So I become defensive whenever somebody accuses me of something."

"We are not accusing you of anything, Mister Mansilla. We have to check out all possibilities and all male students who were on the campus at the time the murders took place," Ironside told him.

Jody look down the list. The dates were all familiar as he had been bothered by the murders himself. He knew he did not do them but how was he to convince this crippled detective that he didn't. He had no alibi. He knew he had been alone when they were committed. Jody was that type of person. He was a bit of a loner and never hung around the other students on the campus.

"Look, I will be honest with you. I have no alibi for any of these dates. I am struggling with my studies and when I leave the campus I come back here and spend all my time studying. Possibly my roommate could substantiate that I was in this room at the time of some of those murders, but he is a party guy. He is rarely here when I am studying because he's too noisy and we get into arguments when he is here. I honestly don't know how to prove to you that I was here, but I was. Right here, studying."

Both detectives noticed the change in his demeanor immediately. They knew his background and the fact that he had been in therapy.

"All right, maybe you can help us in another way. Did you see or hear anything that might help catch the killer?" Ironside asked him.

Eve look down at her boss in bewilderment. She could not believe that he was letting the young man off so easily. He seemed to be completely satisfied with his answers.

"Like I said, Chief Ironside, I pretty much stay here and study. I really do want to be a lawyer and I know my attitude is a problem. I am trying to change it. But ever since these murders have taken place, I have been questioned by your officer here, now you are here and I get the feeling that you actually think that I killed them. I didn't. I just want to get through these classes and get a degree in law. Is there something I can do to help convince you that I had nothing to do with these killings?"

"If you are trying to take me for a fool, Mister Mancilla, you will find that I am not easily fooled. But if you are sincere, there is a way," Ironside told him.

"What way?" Jody ask him.

"If you are willing to give a blood sample, we can compare it to the DNA that was found on some of the victims. If your DNA doesn't match, then you are off the hook."

"If it will clear me, I will gladly do so. Where do you want me and when?" Jody looked the detective straight in the eye. He had heard that Ironside didn't trust people who would not look directly at him.

"Come down to Police Headquarters anytime. We will have someone there that can draw the blood, and do it soon," Eve said.

Jody drop the book that he was holding in his hand on his desk and turned back to both of them. "Hell, I'll do it right now. Do you trust me to go down on my own or do I ride downtown with you?"

Eve Whitfield's phone rang. She reached into her purse and removed it. "Officer Whitfield," she announced to the caller. After a few moments she said, "I will tell him." She hung up the phone and turned to Chief Ironside. "Chief, there's been another murder."

Ironside shook his head. He looked back at Jody Mancilla and reminded him, "I'm going to trust you to go into police headquarters on your own. If you don't, I will be back."

"I'm going right now, Chief. I'd like to point out that I am right here and nowhere near this current murder."

"Depends on when it took place whether that matters or not," Ironside said before turning his chair around and wheeling out of the room.

Mansilla just shook his head and left the room with them. He went straight to his vehicle to head for police headquarters.

*

Ironside pushed the button that lowered the lift in his van to the ground. He was met on the other side by Eve Whitfield. As they reached the door at the home of Stella Unger, they were met by Sergeant Ed Brown and Lieutenant Carl Reese.

"It's the Strangler alright," Carl said as he opened the door for the wheelchair-bound detective.

Ironside wheeled into the house. Lying on the floor was Stella Unger. As all the others, she had been strangled with a wire. Ed walked over to him with a bag in his hand.

"We found this in the hallway, Chief."

Ironside opened the bag using his handkerchief. He looked up at his sergeant. "Carl is correct. This is our man alright." He noticed blood on the wire inside the bag. "Was there blood on the victim that could possibly be the killer's?"

"Unfortunately, Chief, we don't know yet," Ed answered his boss. "We should know soon though."

"I want this checked out by the lab. Tell them if they lose it this time, heads are going to roll," the chief said.

Ed handed it to one of the officers without saying a word. Since he had been standing there, Brown assumed he had heard what Ironside said. He watched as his boss seemed to be staring at something on the floor. "What is it, Chief?"

"Underneath the edge of that chair. There is something shiny. See what it is, Ed."

Brown bent down and looked under the edge of the chair. He could see a fingernail file lying there. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and picked up the fingernail file. It was covered in blood. "Was there any puncture wounds on the victim?" he asked.

Carl, who was on the other side of the room, joined them. "No, Chief. The body was gone over thoroughly. She was strangled. We checked for blood under her fingernails to see if she possibly scratched him, but there was none. He simply waltzed in here and strangled her."

One of the police officers walked over to Ed with an evidence bag. Holding it open, he waited for the Sergeant to drop the fingernail file into it. After the detective obliged him, he took it away.

"I want the victim checked for any fibers, clothes, hair, you name it. Then run a DNA test on Jody Mancilla, James Lander and Wyatt Smith. Pick up all three of them."

"Chief, are you forgetting something?" Eve asked.

"Like what?" the chief snarled.

"Like the fact that we were with Jody Mancilla. He could not have done it, plus the fact that he did not have any wounds on his arms or chest. He had on a short-sleeve shirt that was open at the collar. There were not any open cuts anywhere to be seen."

"Well, he wasn't wearing shorts, Officer Whitfield. He could very well have been stabbed in the leg, which is quite likely if he grabbed her from behind, and we all agree that is what he did?"

Carl nodded his head. "Yes, he would have."

"So, I want to know if Mancilla has any wounds anywhere on his body." Ironside wheeled over to the door. "Call me when you have picked up those three men."

*

The Night School Strangler winced at the pain in his hand. It was still bleeding. He had been unable to stem the flow. Running it under cold water in the sink, he withstood the pain, hoping the blood would stop. Then he remembered he had stuff in his bag that would help. Turning off the water tap, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his bleeding hand. The Strangler headed into the hallway where he always left his bag. Stunned, he realized the bag was not there.

The Strangler began pacing back and forth. Where was that bag? Of course, he must have left it in the car. With his hand wrapped up, he headed outside to the vehicle that he had traveled in to kill Stella Unger. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out the key to the vehicle and unlocked it. Frantically, he searched the front and then the back. He shook his head, realizing he never put the bag in the inside of the car, only the trunk. He certainly could not have people looking in the vehicle and seeing it.

The Strangler slammed the door and went around to the back. Opening the trunk, he reached in ... nothing. The bag was not there. Panicking, he ran back into the house. He slammed the door and stood there with his back against it. God! What had he done with his bag? Where was the last place he remembered putting it. Then it hit him! He set it in the hallway of that bitch's house. He forgot to pick it up as he raced out. He had been so worried someone would have heard him scream; he left so quickly that he forgot it!!

He became sick to his stomach. There were things in that bag that he had handled without gloves. He wondered if Stella Unger had been discovered yet. She likely had as someone probably called the police when he screamed as the bitch stabbed him with the fingernail file.

The file? Where was that fingernail file? It would have his blood on it. Oh God, what a mess! Ironside would have plenty to tie him to the bitch. What was he going to do?

His head began to pound, but why was he getting a headache? It was the weakling that got headaches. He could feel the struggle within him. Then he heard him speak. "So I am a weakling, huh? What have you done? Why is my hand bleeding?"

"This is all your fault, you jackass weakling! If I had not had to take over, we would not be in this position," the Strangler shouted.

"Take over what? All I know is you have been trying to control me. I don't remember anything else. I will not let you control me. You are not in control."

The Strangler closed his eyes and willed the weakling away. Soon he was gone and he was in control again. It would not be long and he would be in complete control, but what was he going to do? Ironside would know who he was shortly. He had to do something. He could not allow the cripple to catch him. Yet, he knew it was inevitable. Ironside would be on his trail.

This was all Mark Sanger's fault. The son-of-a-bitch had to bring that damn cripple into it. If he had not already killed his girlfriend, he would do it now. Maybe he should just kill Sanger himself. No, that would not due. Sanger at least had a right to be at the law school, but what about the blonde policewoman he worked with? She had gone to school instead of staying in the home where she belonged. That was the ticket!! If he was going to go to prison at the hands of Ironside for eliminating those women from the campus, then he would eliminate one more ... Ironside's policewoman. She was just as guilty as the others.

His head begin to clear as he was certain things were once again looking up. Maybe he would even leave town after he did her in. Ironside could not follow him. He could make a new life under a new name. Yes, that is what he would do. He could not think about that right now, he had to figure a way to get to Eve Whitfield. First, he had to get out of this house. Ironside would come looking for him.

The Strangler went into the weakling's bedroom, pulled out a suitcase and filled it with his clothes. He would need them until he could get established somewhere else. Then he would get clothes more fitting to him. The weakling dressed like a nerd.

*

Two days later Chief Robert Ironside was on a rampage. He wanted his DNA test. He had been told that they were not done yet. What in the hell was the matter with those people? Another woman could be murdered any second now and those people were messing around with his tests.

Eve and Mark watched their boss. They knew it was not going to be long and he was going to go down to the lab and perform the tests himself, or at least he would threaten to.

The door opened and Lieutenant Carl Reese came in. "Chief, we have Jody Mancilla in custody. He is cooperating completely. We just found out where James Lander is. Duffy went to pick him up."

"It is about damn time. What about Wyatt Smith?" Ironside growled.

"Finally got an address on him too. He was not at the address the law school had on him. We were able to track him down, though." Carl looked around. "Where's Ed?"

Eve smiled. "The chief sent him over to babysit the lab. He is making sure they don't lose the evidence this time."

"The problem is if this pans out, we will only be able to charge him with the one murder," Carl said.

"We have spent the last two days going back to the scene of the crimes collecting new evidence. We have checked the houses, the chief's van and the bathroom at the college. We may not get him on all of them, but we will get him on more than just the one murder," Eve told him.

Ironside was heading up the ramp. "Come on, Carl. Let's go pick up Smith."

"What are you going to do if none of them has a puncture wound on their body?" Carl asked.

"One of them will," Ironside said.

"Well, it isn't Mancilla. He has been check thoroughly. He doesn't have a scratch on him," Carl informed him.

Ironside stopped his chair. "Then that narrows it to Lander and Smith. Let's go."

Eve stood up. "Chief, don't you want me to come with you?"

"No, you and Mark stay here. I will need you to go over those DNA reports as soon as Ed comes back with them."

*

Carl pulled the chief's van to a stop at the home of Wyatt Smith. Actually, it was his sister's home. The police had discovered that Wyatt and Sally were on the outs and didn't speak to each other. She was the older sibling by ten years. Sally was a successful real estate broker who had made a lot of money dealing only with the very rich. Right now she was on vacation in Europe. Smith was staying in her house. What bothered Ironside was why was he there if they were not speaking?

After lowering his chair down on the lift, Ironside wheeled towards the house. Reese followed close behind. There were already uniformed police officers waiting for them. The two men stepped aside as Ironside approached.

"There is no answer, Chief," the one officer said.

"Carl, do you have that search warrant?" Ironside asked.

Reese patted his suit coat pocket. "Right here."

"Knock again and then kick it in," Ironside ordered.

Carl rapped his knuckles on the door with no results. He looked at Ironside who nodded. Reese lifted his leg and kicked the door. The lock gave way. As they entered, Ironside's cellphone rang. Carl continued into the house.

"Ironside," he answered.

"Chief, it's Duffy. We have James Lander. I just wanted you to know that he has no puncture wounds on his body."

Before Ironside could respond, Carl came back to him holding a bloody towel and some wire. The chief took one look at the towel and said, "Release him. He is not the killer. Release Jody Mancilla as well."

"Yes, sir." The phone went dead.

The police officers who had been searching the house returned to the detective. "No one is in the house, Chief."

"Damn it, we missed him!"

*

Wyatt Smith had stopped by the Wells Fargo bank and removed the gun from the safety deposit box. Pushing it deep into the pocket of his jacket, he drove over to Police Headquarters. He went through the police garage. When Ironside's vehicle was not in its parking spot, he smiled. Good! He knew the sergeant was at the police lab as he had called several times to ascertain the whereabouts of Ironside's staff. He was satisfied Sanger and Eve Whitfield were the only two in the office.

Wyatt walked calmly over to the elevator that would lead to Ironside's office floor. When he arrived, he was disappointed to see that he needed to press a code to use the elevator. He did not want to go through the front door. If Ironside had ordered him picked up, he would be recognized immediately. He stood there trying to think of some way to get up to his office without alerting any of the police in the building. Nothing came to him. When he was about to give up, the elevator went into operation. It was coming down from the second floor. The doors opened and a young police officer stepped out. He seemed to be in quite a hurry. Wyatt did not think he even noticed him. The Strangler stepped into the elevator and pushed the button to Ironside's floor. He rode the elevator up until it stopped. Stepping off he looked to the left.

Wyatt headed for the ramp. He made sure the gun was under his coat and out of sight. He did not want Whitfield or Sanger to see it. He had to catch them by surprise. He opened the door to Ironside's office and went in.

Eve and Mark both turned to see who had just entered their boss's office. Wyatt Smith walked over to them. "I understand Chief Ironside is looking for me again. I thought I would save him the trouble of having me picked up."

Eve looked over at Mark. She could see that he was just as surprised as she was. Did the chief really think this man could be the Strangler. He had cooperated with them. Eve walked over to him. "Thank you, Mister Smith. Chief Ironside is not in at the moment. He will be back shortly. Please have a seat. You can wait for him here. Can we get you something? A cup of coffee, a soft drink perhaps?"

"Yes, I would appreciate that very much," Wyatt told her.

Mark got up and headed for the kitchen. When his back was to the Strangler after he walked past him, Wyatt pulled the gun from his waist and slammed the butt of the gun on the back of Mark's head. He fell to the floor unconscious.

Eve scramble to her purse for her gun, but stopped when she heard Smith call out to her. "Unless you want me to shoot you dead, Officer Whitfield, I would stop right there."

It was then that Eve noticed the bandage across the top of Wyatt Smith's hand. Shock registered on her face as she realized she was face to face with the Night School Strangler. She stopped and looked directly at the man. She stood there running scenarios through her mind. She expected him to pull out the wire any time now. She was surprised at what he did next.

"Relax, Officer Whitfield, you are in no danger right now as long as you do exactly as you are told. If you don't, I will kill you. Remember, I have nothing to lose. Your boss is looking for one of us with a fresh puncture wound somewhere on the body." He held his hand up. "I obviously can't allow him to pick me up, so you and I are leaving here. He won't attempt to come near me for fear I will kill you."

Eve thought how wrong this killer had judged Ironside. The chief would tear the city apart to find her, that is if she was still alive. She knew she had no choice but to go with him. The policewoman had to find some way to keep him from killing her until the chief could find her.

Wyatt Smith used the gun in his hand to point to the door. "Let's go. Ironside will be back soon."

Eve picked up her purse and walked towards the killer. He looked at her and smiled. "What do you take me for? There is a gun in your purse. Take it out by the barrel and throw it on the floor."

Eve had been hoping to hold onto the gun, but she was afraid she had given away its presence in her purse when she made a dash for it. So, she did as she was told, opened her purse, pulled it out by the barrel and dropped it on the ground.

The Strangler stepped behind her and shoved the gun he was holding into her back. Eve left the office with Wyatt Smith. They got into the elevator and rode it down to the parking garage. The empty parking spot marked Ironside was her last hope of stopping Wyatt Smith right here.


	16. Chapter 16

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 16

Carl pulled the van into the police parking garage. He parked it in the spot marked Ironside. The chief got into the lift, pressed the button and was lowered to the cement floor. He headed directly for the elevator.

Carl keyed in the four digit code and then pressed the button to bring the elevator to the garage floor. When it arrived, Ironside turned his chair around and backed into the elevator. As the two men reached the top floor of police headquarters, the elevator opened and Ironside wheeled out towards his office. Carl followed close behind.

They open the door and saw Mark Sanger lying on the floor. "Carl!" Ironside shouted.

Reese ran down the ramp and went directly to Mark. He checked for a pulse which was strong and steady. "He's alive, Chief. He's just unconscious."

Ironside wheeled down the ramp, slowing his chair as he went. He hurried over to Mark.

"Looks like somebody clobbered him," Carl observed.

"Go get a wet cloth," Ironside ordered him as he looked around the room. Where was Eve? He immediately developed an uneasy feeling.

Carl went into the kitchen, opened the drawer and pulled out a dishcloth. He turned on the tab, wet down the cloth and then return to Mark. He placed the wet cloth on Mark's face.

"Mark!" Ironside called out.

As Sanger begin to stir, Carl backed off. Mark opened his eyes and looked up at his boss. He tried to stand up, but Ironside placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Mark. Lie still. Carl, call an ambulance," Ironside ordered.

"I don't need an ambulance." Mark attempted to clear his head. What was he doing on the floor? When the fog in his head began to lift, he looked around the room. "Where's Eve?"

"You mean you don't know where she is?" Carl asked.

"She was here just before... " He stopped in mid-sentence.

"Just before what?" his boss demanded.

Mark rubbed his temples. "Just before he clobbered me."

"Before who clobbered you?" Ironside was becoming impatient as his concern for his police woman began to grow.

"Wyatt Smith. He came here. He said he knew you were looking for him. We told him to have a seat to wait for you to return. I turned my back on him to head to the kitchen to give him a cup of coffee."

"And that is when he clobbered you." Ironside surmised.

"That is when he clobbered me," Mark confirmed.

"Carl put out an APB on Eve and do it immediately. I am assuming you already put one out on Wyatt Smith?"

"Yes, Chief. I did that before we even left his sister's house," Carl told him as he headed for the closest phone.

"Call the ambulance!" Ironside bellowed.

"Chief, I don't need an ambulance. I have to help fine Eve," Mark argued.

"You'll go to the hospital!" Ironside insisted.

The detective wheeled over to the phone on the main table as Carl went to the one on the desk. After dialing the police lab, he waited until the receptionist answered the phone. "This is Ironside, put me through to Sergeant Brown immediately."

"Yes, Chief, one moment," she responded quickly. A moment later Brown came on the line.

"Sergeant Brown."

"Ed, we know who the Night School Strangler is. It's Wyatt Smith. Ed, he's got Eve."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment before Brown found his voice. "Is she..."

"I don't know. I suspect he will keep her alive at least for now. He wants something, Ed. He obviously knows we are on to him. We have to stop him before he harms her."

"I'm on my way, Chief." The phone went dead as Brown hung up.

*

Wyatt Smith drove his sister's vehicle behind the college. There was a room that was rarely used. It was the janitors supply room in the basement. Fortunately for Smith, all it had in it was rarely used supplies. He knew from watching that the custodians rarely entered this room. It was a perfect place to keep Eve Whitfield until he decided what to do with her. By now, he was certain that Mark Sanger had come around. For all he knew, Ironside was back at the office. He would know who he was and what he had been doing.

Unfortunately, he had no doubt that Ironside could tie him to the latest removal. He just didn't understand why the police did not support what he was doing. Women simply did not belong anywhere except in the home taking care of the man's castle and his kids. Ironside's relentless search for him was proof that the detective did not understand. In fact, he must approve of women at the colleges if he was so determined to find out who was removing them. As far as Wyatt was concerned, Ironside was every bit as guilty as the women who are going to law school. That is why he would suffer. Wyatt would remove his police woman. She had no business on the police force.

Robert Ironside condoned women breaking the rules. That was obvious since Eve Whitfield worked for him. Therefore, he would lure him in and remove him as well. He would watch his police woman die and then the Night School Strangler would end his life as well.

The Strangler led Eve to a small closet off of the room. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. Unlocking the door, he opened it and gestured for Eve to enter the closet.

"Wyatt, I can help you. We can get you the psychiatric help you need. Don't do this. You are already in enough trouble," Eve said, trying to reason with him.

"You are wasting your time, Officer Whitfield. I have nothing to lose. I am not Wyatt Smith. I took control of him. He is no more. When I get done with you, Mark Sanger and your boss, I am out of the city. I will go somewhere else. Mexico sounds nice. Or maybe Canada. I never could understand why Wyatt wanted to go to law school.

"The school is full of women who do not belong there. You simply don't know your place. Only men should be in the working world. Women belong at home. All I did was punish those women who are breaking the rules.

"If I were you, Miss Whitfield, I would stay quiet. See, you are breaking the rules as well. You do not belong in the working world. I should be punishing you at this very moment. So, get in the closet." Using the gun, he gestured for her to enter.

"Wyatt, listen to me..."

"Get in the closet!" He grabbed her by the arm and shoved her inside. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out two ropes and duct tape. Smith bound her hands with one rope and her feet with the other. He pulled off a section of the duct tape and covered her mouth with it.

"That ought to keep you quiet. Now listen to me, if you try to draw attention to yourself, I will kill your boss. It is not as hard as you might think it is. I have gotten to anybody I wanted to and have gotten away. So be a good girl and stay still. I will bring you food and give you bathroom breaks as long as you behave yourself. I will be staying right here. So if you act up, I will know it.

Right now, I am going to call your boss. I will let him know that if he attempts to stop me or follow me, you will die. I have to talk to him to negotiate my way out of here. So, Officer Whitfield, I suggest you behave yourself if you want to live."

Wyatt Smith left the closet and lock the door. He began to question his plans. Why kill Ironside? He would do more damage if he killed his police woman and let Ironside live. He decided he was going to boldly walk right into Ironside's office. He had no idea where his police woman was and if he tried to follow him, he would keep his promise and kill her. Actually, he had no intentions of letting her live anyway. Once he got the money he needed and transportation out of the United States, he would take her with him with the promise of releasing her when he got to Mexico. Of course, he was not going to keep that promise. He was going to kill her and send her home in a box. That would be her punishment for trying to enter a man's world. Ironside's punishment would be knowing he was partly responsible for her death.

*

"Where in the blazes is Ed?" Ironside roared.

The door to the office opened and Ed Brown hurried down the ramp. I did some checking on Smith before I got here. Chief, we have a real problem. He has been treated for a split personality." Brown dropped the report down in front of his boss.

"As Ironside began to read through the report, he looked up at his sergeant. "Why are we just finding this out now? We have been checking on all of these men. This information should have been included in Wyatt's Smith report.

"If you continue reading, you will see that he has never been treated here in the United States. His parents lived in Canada for a while. It was at that time, that he had been treated for a split personality. When he was brought to the United States, only his mother came with him. His father stayed in Canada. She did not have the money to continue his treatment here in the United States.

"According to that report, he was abused by both parents. His father brought him up to believe that a woman's place was in the home and nowhere else. He grilled into Wyatt that women should be punished for breaking the rules.

"As I said, his mother brought him here to San Francisco and his father did not come at the time. However, later on he joined them. Wyatt's parents were constantly arguing over her wanting to work. He believed a woman belonged in the home and obeyed everything that her husband told her to do. At the same time, his mother was extremely abusive to the boy, blaming him and his father for her not being able to do anything in life.

"The father died of a heart attack arguing with the mother regarding working. After his death, she continued to abuse the boy. Slapping him, beating him and verbally telling him he was useless."

"Apparently, the split personality was never cured," Ironside said as he continue to read the report in front of him.

"No, but it was never on record in the states that he had that problem. He was, however, treated for severe headaches on many occasions. That is what led to finding out about his medical treatment in Canada. One of the doctors that had treated him had the name of his doctor who treated him while living in Canada. When I checked it out, that is when I found out about the split personality."

"Were there signs of this other personality being violent?" Ironside asked.

"Yes, there were. If you read further down the report, you will find he attacked girls in grade school and high school. He claimed they didn't belong there. Only males belonged in school."

"So in another words, this cat's parents screwed him up royal, causing the second personality to be manifested," Mark said.

"I thought I told you to go to the hospital," Ironside said. Mark ignored the remark.

Ed looked over it Mark. "Scientifically, we don't know that that is what caused it. We do know however that it exists."

"What I want to know is why we are just sitting here discussing this. We need to find Eve," Mark complained.

"And just where do you suggest we look, Mister Sanger?" Ironside growled. "At this point, we have no idea where he took her. Possibly by understanding his past and what has happened to him, it will give us some clue. Or do you have a better idea?"

Mark backed off. "I'm sorry, Chief. I'm just concerned about Eve. This maniac has already killed several women."

"Mark, we are just as concerned as you are. We'll find her," Ironside assured him. "Now, call downstairs, tell them I need someone to drive you to the hospital." Mark made no move to do as his boss ordered.

The door to Ironside's office opened and Carl Reese walked in. "Chief, we have found out that more than one of the girls that were murdered dated Wyatt Smith."

Frustrated, Ironside snarled, "Why are we just finding out this now? All of this should have come out."

"Based on what we knew, we were concentrating on James Lander and Jody Mansilla. Wyatt Smith just did not fit the pattern. He was completely cooperative."

"And the chief was the only one that suggested we check him out thoroughly despite his cooperation," Mark pointed out.

"I'm just as guilty as you are, Carl. Adam Wright fit the pattern. He had been treated for mental problems, severe mental problems. I was certain they were making a mistake on his blood type. After checking several sources, I had no choice but to rule him out as his blood type was just not correct."

"You were just being thorough, Ed," Ironside said. "It didn't help that the lab lost all of the DNA lab work. Let's forget about what we were unable to find out and concentrate on what we have now." Ironside looked at Carl. "So what did you find out after you left this office?"

"Apparently, Smith dated Donna Racey briefly. From what her girlfriends said, he kept trying to get her to quit Law School. He kept telling her that women did not belong in a man's world. We also found out that he had asked out Stella Unger and she had refused him. She had heard about him from Donna Racey."

"Good work, Carl," Ironside said. "It's the beginning of nailing him on the other murders."

"I can't take credit, Chief," Carl told him. "Ed called me from the lab. He was the one that suggested I check it out since he could not leave."

"Chief, we have to find out where he took Eve," Mark said.

"I thought I told you to go to the hospital," Ironside repeated.

"Ed, we need to check further into Wyatt Smith's life, where he goes, who he hangs around with, what other women he has dated. Someone, somewhere has to be able to shed some light on where Smith has taken Eve. Split the work with Carl. And gentlemen, I don't need to tell you time is of the essence. We have to find Eve and do it now. This man is a killer. He is not going to keep Eve alive for long."

Carl and Ed got up quickly and started for the ramp when the phone rang. "Hold on, Ed! I am not finished," Ironside called out. He picked up the phone and said, "Ironside."

Carl and Ed stood at the bottom of the ramp waiting when both noticed the change in the chief's expression. "By all means, have Duffy bring him up." Ironside hung up the phone and turned to his officers. He said nothing.

"Chief, what is it?" Ed asked.

"Wyatt Smith just walked into police headquarters and asked to see me."

"You're kidding?" Carl said.

"Do I in the flamming hell look like I am kidding?" the chief snarled.

A few minutes later the door to the office opened and Officer Duffy led Wyatt Smith in. Both men came down the ramp and Wyatt headed directly over to Ironside.

The detective studied the young man for a moment before saying, "Have a seat, Mister Smith."

Wyatt smiled and replied, "Thank you. He sat down and said nothing. He waited for Ironside to speak.

"Mark! Get our guest a cup of coffee," the chief called out to his aid.

Mark gave his boss a look that said he thought he had lost his mind. After deciding the chief always knew what he was doing, he headed into the kitchen. He reached up into the cupboard and pulled down another mug that had SFPD on it. He poured coffee into it, brought it back to the table and set it down in front of Wyatt Smith. What Mark really wanted to do was beat the crap out of the man until he told them where Eve was being held. However, he thought he better leave it to the chief to handle Smith.

"Cream and sugar, Mister Smith?" Ironside offered as he picked up the sugar bowl.

"No, thank you, I drink it black." He took a sip and crinkled his forehead. "Don't take offense but I have had better coffee."

Ironside turned and looked at Mark. "Mister Sanger is not known for his coffee making ability."

Smith set his coffee down and looked directly into Ironside's blue eyes. "I am sure you know why I am here, but I bet you were not expecting me to show up in your office." He grinned at the detective.

Ironside stared at him before finally saying, "Where's Eve Whitfield?"

Wyatt smiled. "You really don't expect me to answer that, now do you?"

"Why not? You are already guilty of several murders, do you really want to add another one?"

"Guilty of several murders? Come now, Chief, the only murder you can prove I did was Sarah Unger. Let's just say, it was a copy-cat murder. Besides, I did not murder her, I simply removed her from a campus where she did not belong."

"Why is that?" Ironside asked. "Why did she not belong there?"

Wyatt raised his hand and wagged his finger at Chief Ironside. "Now, I am not going to answer a bunch of questions, Chief. You see, I know what you are doing. You are trying to get me to implicate myself in the other murders. I am not going to do that. That is not why I am here."

"Just exactly why are you here?" Ironside asked.

"Well, you see, I had intended to demand some money and transportation to Mexico. I was going to take Miss Whitfield with me and promise to release her once I was safely out of your jurisdiction. The more I got to thinking about it, the more I decided I would be taking too much of a chance. Miss Whitfield, after all is a police officer. She could have easily been a problem. She would have been looking for every opportunity to escape or help you rescue her. She would have been more trouble than the average woman. And, there was the problem that you would be looking for every opportunity to stop me from making it to Mexico." He shook his head. "No, I just did not like the fact that too many things could go wrong, so I changed my plans."

"And just what are your plans now?" Ironside's blue glare bore into the eyes of the Night School Strangler.

"I have Officer Whitfield tucked away where you can't find her." He smiled and chuckled. "You see, Chief Ironside, you have no choice but to give into my demands. I have no intention of going near Miss Whitfield again, and you will only be given her whereabouts if you do exactly as I tell you," the Strangler informed him.

Ironside kept his voice calm. He could not afford to anger or upset the man. He had killed several times and could easily kill again. He saw no other way out than to cooperate... for now. However, he had decided just exactly how to get the young man to do what he wanted him to. "What is it you want, Mister Smith?"

"Well, first of all, please stop calling me Mister Smith. That is the name of the weakling. He is no longer in control, I am. I have no intentions of keeping his name. He was such a wimp. You never would have gotten on to me if he had not been so weak."

"You mean I would not have found out that you were the Strangler if Wyatt Smith had been as cunning and as smart as you."

"See, there you go again, trying to get me to admit to all the killings. I am not going to do that."

"You mean you did not kill them? But, I thought that you had to eliminate the women from the campus. They didn't belong there, after all."

"If you do not think so, than why do you allow Officer Whitfield to work for you?"

"Because the department hires the officers. I am stuck with who they send to me. Unfortunately, they sent me a woman. She is suppose to do a man's job. Huh! Women have no business working in the first place. They should all be removed from the working world," Ironside said.

Wyatt Smith became excited. "That's right! I never thought you would feel that way! Can't you do something about it?"

"I have been trying to do something about it, but the department would not let me," Ironside said.

Ed glanced over at Carl. Both of them were thinking the same thing. They hoped the chief knew what he was doing. He was dealing with a very unstable mind. None of them knew how far they could push Smith or what suggestions would be placed in his mind by what the chief was saying.

"Now, it is different though," Ironside said with a nod of his head. The chief could tell he had Smith's full attention.

"How so?" Smith said as he leaned towards Ironside.

"You never could have taken a male cop prisoner. This proves a woman does not belong on the force."

The Strangler smiled. "Hey! That's right."

"So, Mister Smith, you are smart to tell us where she is when you get to Mexico."

With a thoughtful look, Wyatt struggled with what he had been told. "Would it not be better if I did not tell you where she was, you know, let her life depend on whether or not you could find her?"

"No, that would be a bad idea, Wyatt."

"But I don't understand. Why not?" he said, confused.

"Because it would only prove a female cop is willing to do whatever it takes to catch the criminal, including being willing to die in the line of duty. We would never be able to get them off the force."

The Strangler thought for a moment. "I see what you mean. What do you suggest?"

"Well, I hope you have put her somewhere we can think of so that we find her in time. That way, it shows that it took male cops to save her," Ironside continued.

He frowned and then his expression turned back to excitement. "Yes! That's sounds reasonable to me. You have nothing to worry about. I put her in a place that you would check eventually, a place where lots of people could find her, especially someone that is there all the time."

Ironside lowered his chin, raised his eyebrows. "That was smart. Wyatt Smith would never have thought of it."

That seemed to stroke the Strangler's ego. "You are right. He was not sharp enough to think of it."

"If I were in your position, I would have put her in a basement somewhere," Ironside said. "Tied her up, maybe, with a gag." He nodded his head at Smith. "Yep, that is what I would have done."

Wyatt grinned. "I am so happy to know that I thought of it too."

"You are pretty smart, a lot smarter than the average man that eliminates women from the work world."

"Thank you, Chief! Coming from you, I consider that a compliment." He beamed with pride.

"So, what kind of transportation shall I give you? You should have the best. No one has stumped me the way you have."

Still grinning, Smith said, "I really beat you?"

"You did. Actually, I would never have figured it out, let alone caught you."

"Really?"

"Really," Ironside repeated.

"So what kind of transportation do you think I should have to Mexico?"

Ironside rubbed his chin. "I would suggest a private plane."

"Why not just a commercial plane?" the Strangler asked.

"Because if it got out how you had bested the women who were trying to enter a man's world, some woman on the plane might try to harm you," Ironside suggested.

"Yes, I could see how that could happen. Okay, then I want a private plane to Mexico."

"It will be arranged. And you will keep your word that you will give us Eve Whitfield's location as soon as you are safely away in Mexico?"

"You have my word, Chief."

"That's good enough for me," Ironside said. He put out his hand and the Strangler shook it.

"Then we have a deal. There is just the matter of a bit of money."

Ironside waved his hand. "Not a problem. Will one million dollars be enough?"

Wyatt's eyes widen. "Yes, I believe that will be sufficient."

Ironside slammed his hand down on the table. "Good, we have reached an agreement and I will be able to get Eve Whitfield out of my office thanks to you. She can return home where she belongs."

The Strangler stood up. "Chief, I want to leave in the morning. I am firm on that. After all, we can't leave Eve Whitfield without food and water very long." He had promised to bring her food and give her bathroom breaks, but now that Ironside knew where he was, he could not take the chance of being followed there.

"You won't give me a couple days to get all your demands in line?" Ironside pushed. He needed time to locate Eve.

"No! Tomorrow, Chief, or our deal is off. I will let Eve Whitfield die," Wyatt said.

"Well, okay, I guess that will give me enough time," Ironside said.

"Good. I will be going now." Smith headed towards the door.

"I can't let you leave," Ironside said.

Wyatt Smith turned around. The look on his face darkened. "Why not?"

"Because I am a cop. Can you imagine what the papers and my commissioner would say? But I'll tell you what. If you would agree to stay here in my jail, just overnight, I will see to it that you get the best cell with a double mattress, a television, any books or magazines you want, and oh... internet access as well. How about room service? You can order your dinner and breakfast from any restaurant in town. You will look very important to all the other guests in the jail."

"You wont' try to keep me?"

"Of course not. I need you to release Eve Whitfield so I can prove it took men to to get her rescued. Otherwise, I will be stuck with a woman in my office forever."

"I can trust you?" the Strangler asked.

"You can."

"I guess when it comes right down to it, you don't have a choice but to do as I ask if you want to get Whitfield released."

Ironside nodded. "That's right."

"Okay, I will be your guest for the night. I accept your offer."

Ironside looked at Duffy. "Officer Duffy, take our guest downstairs. Make sure he is treated like a VIP. Give him everything he wants."

"Yes, sir." Duffy looked at Smith. "Sir, if you will come with me, I will see to all your needs."

Wyatt looked back at Ironside. "You are a man of honor, Chief Ironside. You have been more than fair."

"Why wouldn't I be? You have been more than cooperative," Ironside said with a grin.

Duffy took Wyatt Smith by the arm and led him out of the office.

Mark looked at his boss in amazement. "Chief, I am beginning to think that you could talk Satan into turning himself in."

"We have not done anything yet." He turned his chair towards Ed and Carl. "Why are you two just standing there? We have until morning to find Eve. There is no way I can let him make it to Mexico. Get moving!"

Ed and Carl raced out of the office.

Ironside turned back and stared at Mark. "You go to the hospital."


	17. Chapter 17

The Night School Strangler

Chapter 17

Ironside sat at the main table in his office-residence. He knew he had to find Eve. He had Wyatt Smith in custody. The chief could not possibly turn him loose in the morning. He was a police officer, or more correctly, a police detective. He could not allow Smith to walk out of the jail in the morning, even if it meant not finding Eve's location from the killer.

There had to be a way to reach Wyatt Smith, the real Wyatt Smith, not his second personality. Ironside had a feeling that if he could talk to Wyatt Smith, he might be able to convince him to tell him where Eve Whitfield was being held.

It would be dangerous, of course. However, he had to try. Ironside reached for the phone and dialed a number of a doctor he had relied on in the past. He waited as the phone rang, in hopes his friend would be at home.

"Hello," Doctor Emily Dietland greeted her caller

"Emily, Bob Ironside," the gruff detective announced.

"Bob! It has been a long time since I have heard from you. Don't you think it's about time that we meet for lunch or dinner?"

Ironside smiled. The reason he had not called on Emily and other friends of the female persuasion was Katherine. Since he had been seeing her, he had stopped calling them. Although, he figured Katherine would know that he would only be seeing them as friends, he still had not done so. Between his job and the time he spent with Katherine, there was not much time to socialize with others. When he did have time, he usually spent it with Mark, Ed and Eve.

"I am sorry, Emily. My job keeps me extremely busy," he said, knowing it was only half true.

"You always found time before and you are still working the same job," she said. "I have a feeling it has to do with a certain lady that you are seeing."

The chief chuckled. He had not put anything over on his longtime friend. "I suppose that is probably the reason," he admitted. "Perhaps we could get together, you, Katherine and me, and go to your favorite restaurant."

"I would love that, Bob. I do not get to spend much time with people who are as smart as I am," she laughed.

"Katherine will appreciate that remark," Ironside quipped.

Emily laughed heartily. "Since you aren't calling to make a dinner date, I am assuming this is official police business."

"Yes, you are correct. I need your help."

"What can I do for you, Bob?"

Ironside went on to explain the events that had transpired in the past few hours. He explained to her that he knew who the Night School Strangler was and what the man expected him to do.

"You can't possibly turn this man loose," Emily said.

"I have no intentions of doing so. As a matter of fact, I couldn't if I wanted to. I am a cop. He has admitted to one murder. I want to tie him to the rest of them. The problem is his other personality has taken over. I can't reach that personality. If we can bring back Wyatt Smith, I believe I can get him to tell me where he has hidden Eve."

"I take it you want me to talk to him."

"I do. I would like you to bring back Wyatt Smith."

Emily Dietland was doubtful that she would be able to help this man, at least not in one session. "It might be better if you found a man to handle this one. With his hatred of women, I am not sure that I could even begin to reach him in only one session."

"I could do that, however, there is no one better at handling split personalities than you," Ironside said.

Emily remained quiet for a moment, considering Ironside's request. In the past, she had always helped him when needed. This time, she was not sure she could. Yet, she knew she would not turn him down. "I will do everything I can, but I caution you, I may not be able to reach Wyatt Smith at all. At least not in time to find your policewoman."

"But you will give it a try?" Ironside asked.

"Of course, I will. When do you want me to do this?"

"As soon as possible, if you could come now, that would be perfect. I have him in a jail cell. From what the guards tell me, he is ordering just about everything in the book."

"Well, you did tell him he could have whatever he wanted. I must tell you that it was brilliant for you to treat him like a VIP. You have developed a trust with this young man. For that reason, Robert, you might be able to reach him far faster than I could."

"I would still like you to try," Ironside told her.

"I will be right over."

Robert Ironside hung up the phone. He was aware this was a long shot. Emily had been correct in the fact that Wyatt Smith hated women. Nevertheless, long shots had worked for him before. Hopefully, this one would this time.

Eve Whitfield was completely in the dark. The utility room Wyatt Smith had locked her in was not very big. Lying down, she could touch the one wall with her feet and the other with her head. She tried rolling to her left, but she ran into the wall. When she rolled to her right she ran into the door. It gave her an idea of how big the room was she was being kept in.

Eve did not care if Smith was right outside the door. If he thought she was going to keep quiet, he was dead wrong. She turned her body so that her feet were at the door. She lifted them and started kicking and pounding on it. She only wished that she was not gagged. She would start yelling and screaming regardless of what Smith told her.

Eve was concerned about her situation, but she had complete confidence in her boss. There was very little he could not find out. The policewoman wondered exactly what Smith's demands would be to Chief Ironside. The chief was awfully good at convincing mentally disturbed people that he was going to give them exactly what they wanted. Eve knew better than that. Chief Ironside would play along with Wyatt Smith, at the same time doing everything he could to locate her.

They were dealing with a very sick mind. She had no doubt that Wyatt Smith had a split personality. Certainly, Smith, himself was no longer in control. His other personality was. He appeared to be ruthless and uncaring regarding human life.

Eve continued to pound on the door until she was exhausted. Smith had tied her hands extremely tight, and they were beginning to ache. She had to determine if there was anything in this small closet that would help her remove her bonds. She began changing her positions enrolling to each wall to determine if there was anything at all that could help her. When she completed the task, she decided that this was a completely empty room. Frustrated and upset, Eve stayed still to regain her strength.

She had one thing going for her. If Smith was actually here, he certainly would have opened the door to warn her to be quiet. He obviously had left her alone. Sooner or later, someone would come to her aide. She had no idea exactly where she was, other than knowing he had brought her back to the college. Eve assumed it had to be in the basement of one of the buildings. Probably the building in which the janitorial supplies were kept. If that were the case, someone would be coming down here eventually. At least, that is what she kept telling herself.

Eve decided she would much rather depend on the chief in finding her. Who knew what this area was really used for and how often someone came into it. She had to assume that Wyatt Smith had picked some isolated area of the college which was not visited frequently.

Eve had to remain positive. There was no sense in getting down on her situation. She had no doubt that the chief, Ed and Mark were doing everything they could to locate her. She only wished she knew exactly what Wyatt Smith was up to.

Unfortunately, she could do nothing but think. She saw no way out of her situation without the help of Robert Ironside.

Emily Dietland arrived at police headquarters. Walking straight over to the main desk, she announced, "Chief Ironside is expecting me."

The officer behind the desk checked the schedule. There in front of him was in notation that the chief had left word that Doctor Dietland would be arriving shortly. She was to be passed and sent directly up to his office.

"Yes, Doctor, the chief is waiting for you. Go straight ahead and take the elevator to the top floor. The chief's office ... "

"Yes, yes, I know where his office is. I have been here many times before. Thank you, Officer." She turned away from him and headed directly for the elevator. Pressing the button for the top floor, Doctor Dietland waited for the car to return to the main floor. The doors opened and she stepped inside. When it arrived on Ironside's floor, she stepped out and turned to her left. She headed up the ramp and knocked on the chief's door.

Mark Sanger opened it and told her, "Come in, Doctor. The chief is expecting you."

Emily entered the office and walked down the ramp. She immediately joined Robert Ironside at the main table. A smile broke across his face. He reached out with his right hand, and she took it.

Ironside kissed her hand and said, "Welcome, Emily. It has been a while."

"I believe that is your fault," she said returning the smile.

"I only wish it was under more pleasant circumstances." He turned and looked at Mark. "You remember Mark?"

"Of course, I do. Hello, Mark."

Sanger returned the greeting and headed into the kitchen to bring a cup of coffee to the doctor.

"You do know you are asking for the impossible," Emily said to him.

"Nothing is impossible for you."

"Bob … "

"Just do your best; that is all I can ask," Ironside interrupted her.

"Where is this man?" Emily asked.

"Downstairs in a holding cell. But first, sit down and have a cup of coffee."

Mark set the coffee in front of their guest. "The whole idea is crazy. He is not going to talk to a woman," he mumbled. It did not escape Ironside's excellent hearing.

He turned and looked at Mark. "I thought I told you to go to the hospital."

"You did, multiple times, but I am not going, not until we find Eve," Mark said defiantly.

Emily smiled. "You really are a family, aren't you?"

The chief turned his attention back to his guest. "Yes, we are, dysfunctional, but a family nevertheless."

She chuckled and took a sip of coffee. "I am going to try, Bob, but I doubt there will be any success in one session. It sounds to me that this young man needs long-term therapy." She looked around the room. One member of the chief's staff was missing. "Where's Sergeant Brown?"

"Out making arrangements. If you are unable to reach this man, then we will have to go through the charade of releasing him," Ironside said.

"But, you are not going to do it?"

"Of course not. I only have to convince him I am releasing him."

"Okay, then. Shall we get started?" Emily suggested.

"Mark, you stay here." He turned his chair around and wheeled toward the ramp. He stopped suddenly and looked back at Dietland. "I don't mean to tell you your business; I do think it might help if you acted like women don't belong in the work force. It might help bring out Wyatt Smith."

She smiled at him. "You do mean to tell me my business, and I already had that in mind."

They left his office and headed for the elevator that would take them to the floor where Wyatt Smith was being held. When they arrived, Officer Duffy greeted the chief. He had been reassigned to make sure Smith got everything he wanted. Duffy was always the go-to man when Ironside wanted someone he could trust completely. Ed and Carl were tending to other duties, and Duffy was the officer Ironside wanted in charge.

"Hello, Chief," Duffy said.

"Duffy … how is our prisoner?"

"Demanding and arrogant," the officer answered.

"Just keep him happy," Ironside said.

"Yes, sir." He picked up the key to Wyatt Smith's cell and headed into the back where the Strangler was held. Ironside and Dietland were close behind him.

Smith looked up and smiled when he saw Ironside. It quickly turned into a frown as soon as he spotted Emily Dietland. "What is she doing here? I am not talking to a woman. You know how I feel about them. They belong in the home, not taking men's jobs."

"I could not agree with you more, Wyatt," Doctor Dietland said. "Society would be far better off, if people would just follow the rules."

Smith's expression changed slightly. They could tell he was trying to understand Dietland's remark. "Who are you?"

"My name is Emily Dietland. I am a phycologist."

"Oh, a shrink. I have seen dozens of them. You people are all useless. Every one of them was a woman, just like you. If you actually feel that way, then why are you working in a man's job?"

"Because I had no choice. My father died and my mother forced me to go to work," she told him.

"So why didn't you just get married and stay home where you belong?" Smith said sarcastically.

"I wanted to. Unfortunately, I couldn't. She lifted the leg of her slacks, revealing a brace on her right leg. "Every man I dated walked away as soon as they found out about this." She lifted the other pant-leg showing off the same brace on the left leg.

Wyatt looked down at the brace. He could see why a man would shun her. Who wanted a woman that could not take care of his home and family?

"Would you have dated me, Wyatt?" she asked him.

He hesitated. "Yes, but I can see why other man would not have. Can you clean and cook with that?" The Night School Strangler pointed down at the brace.

"Yes, I can, but no man will give me a chance. You see, Wyatt, I had no choice; I had to go to work. I know I am breaking the rules. What do you think I should have done?"

Smith did not answer her right away. Ironside saw an opening. "Mister Smith, I think you can help Emily, don't you?"

The Strangler looked at the detective in the wheelchair. "How?"

"By helping her to convince the other Wyatt Smith you are right about women."

Smith eyed Ironside with mistrust. "I can't let him have control."

"It would not be for long, Wyatt. Just long enough for me to teach him the errors in his thinking. I believe it would help you take over completely. You are still feeling the pull from him, aren't you?" Emily inquired of him.

"Yes, he never quits. It is getting harder to hold him down," Smith admitted.

"Then why not let Doctor Dietland try to convince him that you should be in control?" Ironside said.

Emily looked Wyatt Smith in the eye. For some reason, he trusted Bob Ironside. Hopefully, that trust was strong enough to convince him to let her try."

"You promise you won't let him take over?" Smith said.

"I promise," she lied.

"Okay, go ahead."

Eve wondered what the clanging was that started a few minutes ago. It was getting louder. What else could go wrong? Anyone passing by would never hear her with that noise. It would drown out any commotion she could generate by kicking the door.

On the other side of the room the valve on the gas generator was banging against it. The valve had been loose for some time. Unfortunately, this room was not frequented by anyone. No one else had discovered what the maintenance man had failed to report. The generator was a backup in case the building lost power. One of the maintenance men had not reported that he had broken the valve when they had used it last week. Now the gas was beginning to leak from the loosened valve.

Eve wondered where the noise was coming from. Was she going to have to listen to that banging until the chief located her? It was really annoying. What was that she smelled? Her eyes widen as she recognized the odor. Gas! Oh God! Something in the room was leaking gas. If she was not found soon, she would succumb to the odor of the gas, or worse, an explosion! If this room was used for storing any kind of chemicals, it would not be long before they were ignited. Eve was beginning to wonder if she would ever see the Chief, Ed and Mark again. She had to find a way to get the ropes off that bound her hands.

Wyatt Smith closed his eyes and began concentrating. Ironside watched and waited, hoping Emily would be successful in helping the real Wyatt Smith to take control, at least long enough to tell him where Eve was being held.

"Wyatt, are you there. You must take control so I may talk to you. We have much to discuss."

Smith's eyes opened and began to roll. When they stabilized, he looked around. "Where am I?"

"You are in the San Francisco jail," Emily told him. "You are a guest of Chief Ironside."

"Guest?" He began to panic at the sight of the bars. "What am I doing here? I didn't kill those women, he did it!" He shouted at Ironside.

The chief wheeled forward. "I know that, Mister Smith. We are trying to help you."

"Wyatt, you must tell Chief Ironside where Eve Whitfield is," Emily told him.

"I didn't take her, he did. I didn't want to do any of this. He killed them!" Smith screamed.

"Calm down, Wyatt. Chief Ironside knows that. You want the killing to stop, don't you?" she asked him.

Suddenly, Smith seemed to be fighting for control. "He's trying to take over!"

"You mustn't let him. We can't help you, if he is in control," she told him.

"I don't know if I can stop him," he cried.

"Wyatt, listen to me," Ironside said, interrupting the doctor. He will kill again unless you help us stop him. He is going to kill Eve Whitfield."

"No, he is only holding her," Smith disagreed.

"But he won't tell us where she is. If we don't find her, she will die. You don't want her to die, do you?" Ironside asked, never raising his voice.

"No, I don't want anyone to die!" His eyes rolled back in his head.

Emily knew they were losing him to his other personality. "No, Wyatt, don't let him take control! You must be strong if you don't want him to kill again!"

Ironside wheeled forward. "Wyatt, tell me where Eve Whitfield is!"

When Smith's eyes once again stabilized, he looked at them with pure hatred. "You lied to me! You tried to trick me! You didn't want to tell him he was wrong! You lied. I will not tell you where Eve Whitfield is and I will not let him tell you!" He was shouting at them both, but his eyes were locked on Robert Ironside.

Ironside grabbed Emily's arm and pulled her away from his cell. "Can we bring Wyatt Smith back?"

"I told you I did not think this would work. This Wyatt Smith is not going to let me bring the real one back. No, Bob, I won't be able to do so, but there might be a way."

"What way?" Ironside demanded.

"This Smith trusted you. You have now lost that trust. You might be able to reach the real Wyatt Smith."

"I thought one personality did not know what the other one was doing." Ironside said. "How did he know what we were doing?"

"That is not always the case. This is why I think you can still reach Wyatt Smith. Bob, it is worth a try. You have to try," Emily insisted.

Ironside nodded. He wheeled back to Smith's cell to give it another try.

The smell of the gas was getting stronger. Eve knew she did not have long. She would be overcome with the fumes if she did not get out of here. Where was the chief? Why had he not found her by now? He always got there in time. He had to. She had to hold back the panic. The chief would not panic, so neither would she. But, she did not want to die, especially not like this.

How would the chief ever tell her parents about her? They never wanted her to go into police work in the first place. Oh, she knew deep down they were proud of her, but that would certainly sour if she did not get out of here alive. And the chief … the man she respected above all others, how would he handle it. He would blame himself for not finding her in time, she knew he would. She did not blame him; she knew he would be doing everything possible to find her. It would not matter to him, he would still blame himself. If only she could tell him that it was not his fault.

Eve promised herself she would not cry, but she just could not help it. The tears began to flow. Eve remembered the time she cried the night before the chief was going into surgery to see if he would walk again. What was it he said to her? "Now that's enough." She could not wipe the tears from her eyes, but she could stop the flow. "Now that's enough," she told herself. Eve stopped crying. Even now, in the face of death, Chief Ironside was still her inspiration. If that is what was to be, she would accept it with dignity.

"You might as well go away, Ironside. Everything you told me was a lie. I want out of here! Let me out of here, or I will never tell you where your policewoman is!" he shouted at the detective.

"You are not going anywhere, Mister Smith. I have no intentions of allowing you to kill again. In fact, I don't want to talk to you. You are a fake, a phony. Wyatt Smith would never kill unless you made him do so. He didn't want to kill, you did. He is a good man; you are a cold-blooded killer. I am finished with you! I want to talk to Wyatt, not you."

What followed was the chilling laughter of the Night School Strangler. "There is no Wyatt Smith. I am in control. He is no more."

"Wrong! You are no more." Ironside then began talking to the real Wyatt Smith. "Wyatt, if you can hear me, this is Chief Ironside. I want to help you. I know you did not kill those people, he did. I can get you the help you need, if you will trust me."

"Shut up, Ironside!" his alternate personality shouted at the detective.

The chief ignored him and continued. "Wyatt, you must be strong. He cannot remain in control if you don't let him. Fight him, Wyatt! You can do it. I promise I will help you."

The Night School Strangler grabbed his head. Emily Dietland spoke quietly to Robert Ironside. "Bob, it is working! Keep it up, he is weakening."

"Listen to me, Wyatt, don't let him kill again. You can stop him. You can take control. I promise we will help you."

The Strangler continued to rub his temples. "Stop it! I will not let you take control.

"He is listening to you. He is trying to take control. Keep it up, Bob!" Emily encouraged.

"Wyatt, you are stronger. Stop him now from killing! Don't let him do it. Take control. Do it now!" Ironside bellowed.

Smith's eyes rolled to the back. When they came back, Wyatt Smith looked at Ironside. "I didn't want to kill, Chief. He made me do it."

"Wyatt, where is Eve Whitfield?" Ironside demanded.

"I didn't want to kill!" Tears began flowing down his cheeks. "I didn't want to kill."

"Wyatt, we know that. Tell Chief Ironside where his police woman is," Emily said softly.

Smith looked up at Ironside. It seemed forever before he spoke. "She is in the basement of the building where they keep the spare generators at the college."

Ironside whipped his chair around. "Emily, stay with him. Do what you can do to help him. He wheeled out of the jail as fast as he could. Duffy was on the phone. Ironside grabbed the receiver out of his hand and hung up the phone. He began dialing immediately.

"Ed," Carl said excitedly, "your hunch was right. The APB that you put on Smith's sister's car paid off. It has been spotted over at the college."

"Let's go!" Ed said. The two men ran out of the private airport and headed for Ed's car. When they arrived, the car phone was ringing. Ed picked it up and shouted, "Sergeant Brown."

"Ed, she's in ... "

Upon hearing the voice of his boss, Ed interrupted. "Chief, we have located his sister's vehicle. We're going to investigate now."

"The vehicle is over at the college," Ironside told him.

Carl and Ed looked at one another. "That's right, how did you know that, Chief?"

"With the help of Emily Dietland, we got Wyatt Smith to tell us where Eve is. She's in the building that holds the spear generators. Get over there, immediately!"

"We're on our way!" Ed said. He slammed down the phone and turn the ignition on the vehicle. After turning on the siren, he floored the pedal of the vehicle and headed for the college. When they arrived, Ed sent Carl into the main building to find out which one of the buildings held the spare generators. While he was doing that, Ed called in extra police as well as an ambulance.

When Carl returned, he gave Ed the location of the building in which Eve was being held. It was two buildings over from where they were. They both ran at top speed towards the building. Unable to keep up with Brown, Carl lagged behind the younger man with the longer legs.

When they arrived at the building, they spotted one of the custodians. Brown pulled out his San Francisco police identification and demanded, "Where are the spare generators kept?"

"In the basement of this building," he told the police detective.

"Come with us. Show us where they are." The man nodded and led the way to the basement of the building. As they approach the door, Ed and Carl took in the familiar odor.

"Ed, that's gas!" Carl shouted.

Brown turned to the custodian. "Unlock the door and hurry up!"

The man obliged him immediately.

"Eve! Eve! Where are you?" Ed shouted. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and put it over his mouth. Carl had already done so.

When Officer Whitfield heard his voice, she began kicking the door with her feet.

"Ed, over there!" Carl pointed.

Both men raced over to the door. When Ed tried the knob, it was locked. He looked over at the custodian, who was already going through his keys. He found the right key and unlocked the door.

Brown reach down and picked Eve Whitfield up in his arms. "Let's get the heck out of here!" he shouted.

All three men ran as fast as they could out of the room. They headed for the exit of the building. None of them stop there; they continued to run as fast as they could away from what could be pending disaster. As they were running, an explosion went off behind them. The building was in gulfed in flames. All of them fell forward to the ground from the force of the explosion. Fortunately, they had been the only ones in the building.

Ed immediately began untying Eve. He removed the tape from her mouth. When her hands were free, she put her arms around his neck. "I knew the chief would find me. I knew you would come."

Ed smiled and just held her. Relief flooded him as he knew one of their own was once again safe.

The door to Ironside's office opened. The chief turned to see Eve Whitfield walk in front of Ed Brown and Carl Reese. He smiled as she headed down the ramp and straight to him. Ironside took his policewoman into his arms. Holding her tight, he could feel the slight tremble of her body. "It's alright, Eve, you are safe now."

"I knew you would come for me," Eve said.

Ironside eased her back, and with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Never doubted it for a minute?"

She looked down and smiled. Well, maybe for a minute … or two." She sat down beside her boss.

"Chief, what about Wyatt Smith," Mark asked.

"He will be sent to an institution for the criminally insane. Hopefully they can help him."

"You mean he is going to get away with all of those killings?" Eve said, a bit shocked.

"Eve, he would never be declared competent to stand trial," Ironside said.

"Your chief is correct, Officer Whitfield. I would never declare him fit to stand trial."

Ironside looked over at Mark. Through it all, the young man had the biggest stake in this case. He had lost his girlfriend to the Night School Strangler. "Mark, are you alright?"

Sanger sat down at the table. "After Kimberly was murdered, I just wanted to tear this man apart. I wanted him to get the death penalty." He stopped and looked away from everyone.

"And now?" Ironside asked.

"I hope he gets the help he needs," Mark said. Ironside marveled at his young friend. To have compassion for the man that killed his girlfriend, showed just how far the angry young man Mark had once been, had come.

The door opened and Commissioner Randall came into the office. After descending the ramp, he walked over to Ironside. "Bob, I just wanted to congratulate you and your staff for catching the Night School Strangler."

"Why do we have to give killers titles?" Ironside complained. "We caught Wyatt Smith."

"Are you ever happy?" Randall asked. It brought a couple snickers from Ironside's staff.

"Not if you are going to ask me to participate in a news conference?" Ironside grumbled.

"Admit it, Bob, you love the attention," Randall said.

"I would be careful, Dennis. I just may change professions." Ironside grinned.

Randall smirked. "And do what?"

"I think I just may go into psychology. After all, I was able to get into Wyatt Smith's head and convince him to take control. I drove his alter ego back into submission."

"Naturally, you can drive anyone into submission," Randall said to much laughter around the room. "Just think, you could create your own business. After all, you are very good at driving me crazy. I could even end up a patient."

Ironside mulled it over. "I think I will stay a cop. I enjoy driving you crazy and if I were a psychologist, I would have to treat you. That would be too much of a temptation to try to give your split personality complete control."

As everyone laughed, Randall headed to the door. "Someday, I will get the last word."

Ironside grinned. "Not today, Dennis."

After he left, Emily stood up. "I must be going, Bob. I have an appointment with a patient." After Ironside thanked her, she said her goodbyes and left the office.

"Mark! How about some dinner? The old man's hungry!" He headed to a phone to invite Katherine for dinner.

Eve looked around the room. All was again right with her world. She looked at Mark and wondered how long it would be before all was right with his.

The End

I do not own the Ironside characters. They are the creation of Collier Young. All other characters were created in my mind for the purpose of telling this story.

Thank you to all those who have followed and read this fanfiction, and to those that reviewed. Also, thank you to my beta, Journey Through Time for proofing and readying these for publication.

The next Ironside story is in the works!

Kathleen

Kaleen1212


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